Mists of Time
by Queen
Summary: Sailor Pluto is sent though a doorway into an era of legend.... (complete)
1. Time, Who Dwells Alone In The Mist

Read me-

Hello, and welcome 'Mists of Time.'

I'll try and keep this short. First, this is a Pluto story. Actually, she's the only senshi in it. Everyone _is_ here, to a greater or lesser degree, but in different incarnations, so names and physical appearances are different. (Hint hint: eye color is _usually_ the same.) Next, I make 3 assumptions. 1, that there is more than one door Pluto guards. So far, I've never seen/heard of more than the one leading between Crystal Tokyo and 'present' Tokyo. 2, that Queen Serenity sent everyone to Earth to be reborn multiple times until their Awakening, and 3, Setsuna's parentage. I know Chronos is her father, but I've never heard of a mother. Mythologically, the wife of Chronos is Rhea. This story takes place in the Arthurian period of Britain. The pagan aspects are accurate to the best of my knowledge, though I have taken certain liberties with the 'special effects' type of magic. _Italics_ are Setsuna's thoughts. 

Whew! Ok. The usual stuff-

Sailor Moon and everything associated with it does not belong to me. It belongs to Naoko Takeuchi, DiC Entertainment, Toei Anime, Pocket Mixx and other powerful people. The Arthurian characters belong to everyone who has ever enjoyed their stories, except Arthur, who belongs to himself, because he really is asleep on the Isle of Avalon. 

Special thanks to: Marion Zimmer Bradley, for writing "The Mists of Avalon" (which heavily influenced this fic) and Rosemary Sutcliff for writing "Sword at Sunset." Both are truly classics in the field. 

Enjoy.

I'd love to hear any questions and/or comments. My mail is queen2126@hotmail.com

-Queen__

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Mists of Time 

Part 1- Time, Who Dwells Alone In the Mist

_ _

_They have pierced the wall of Time_

_And let the flood of centuries pour_

_Down in torrents of abused past_

_And future follies. Nor_

_Can the wit of man dam up _

_This foul stream, polluted _

_With History's excrement,_

_Channeled now in convoluted_

_Ways, cross-currented with tide,_

_Ebb and neap with storm_

_From which only few can hide._

-Anne McCaffrey

Once Upon a Time, as all true fairy tales must begin....

Meioh Setsuna, Sailor Pluto, Daughter of Chronos, Keeper of the Timestaff, Possessor of the Garnet Orb, Princess of Pluto, the Time Space Star, Guardian of the Gates of Time...was incredibly bored. 

She folded her arms on the table before her and leaned down, resting her chin on her hand, holding the Timestaff before her, watching it distractedly, with the fascination that comes only from extreme boredom. Between the worlds, guarding the doorways, was an honor. 

_Yeah. Honor. And I'm Princess of the Moon._

The invisible hands that brought her food and drink whisked away the dinner dishes from the table with silent efficiency. The setting had been beautiful, of course. It always was. Candles, flowers, delicate sweetmeats perfectly spiced with tiny garnishing that the silent hands made so perfectly. She glanced out the windows around her, seeing the swirling mists of time and space brushing the panes of shimmering glass. 

Wisk, hisssh. The plate before her was swept away.

Wipsh, shhissh....The hands took the last tray away, softly sighing as they completed their tasks, and the candles in the chandelier high overhead began to wink out. 

_Looks like its time for bed. Clockwork. Everything on timers. Father, is that some kind of hint to me? Time always running like clockwork? The gears, the seconds ticking, always carefully planned? _

__She sighed and stood from the table, leaving the dining hall. She patrolled the halls, checking the doors to ensure their closure.

_I feel like some useless guard on a castle wall. No one ever comes. No one ever goes. I haven't even seen Father since the Fall of the Earth. Is this all there is for me? To grow at a rate unpredictable? _

__

__Not even a millennium had passed since the Battle of Earth. Since the fall of the Silver Millennium. She had been given the Timestaff, given her duties, told the three taboos of time travel. Then sent here, beyond a door to grow up, learning how to fight from a droid in the training hall. It, too, shut down after her lessons with the Staff. Computers hummed in some rooms, murmuring to each other and teaching her about the history of the world, the world gone, the world to come. Sometimes, she was even shown images in the slipstream of time. Lessons such as those fascinated Setsuna. The people in their beautiful clothes, the deadly weapons of barbarian hordes, the grace of a hunter stalking deer in the forest. The image of families rising to protect themselves from any danger, the love between couples whose names would be carved into the annals of time. 

She longed to grow up.

She'd been barely eight in biological years when the Timestaff had passed to her. Some hundred and fifty years ago she had a growth spurt. She looked about eleven now. She had the thoughts and emotions of an eleven year old with the knowledge gleaned from centuries of training. 

Daily training. 

_For what? I never use any of my abilities, except against that ridiculous training droid. I passed up its highest skill level sixty years ago. I know, the future will need me. But when is this future to come? I'm told over and over by the blasted computers it will happen 'in time'. But isn't time relative? They show me history. But not the time I wish to learn about most! Why? Why? Setsuna. You know why. Damage to the timestream. Foreknowledge...._

Setsuna turned down a hallway, the mists curling around her ankles, breezing past her in the soft wind of the corridor. Each door, carved so beautifully, each door, with so many people, so many adventures behind it! She longed to pluck a key from its chain and thrust it into the keyhole of a door, fling it open and jump inside, to swim in the timestream, to live for once, with people! To have friends.

_Friends. Most people have friends. I have a training droid and computers._

She sighed and leaned against the back of a door, then sank down, curling up, tucking her knees under her chin, holding the Timestaff before her. She stared at the door across from her. A soft hazy glow emanated from its corners. 

_A time of magic, then, with the glow. I wonder who lives there. What magic do they have? Do they know of the Silver Millennium? Are there sorcerers and magic swords? _

__The light from the door's cracks began to brighten. Setsuna's eyes lifted, puckering her brow. 

_That's not supposed to happen. _

She lifted her head from her knees and looked up and down the hallway. Empty. As always. 

_I couldn't, could I? Just...go? No one comes, no one goes. Just stand, take the key, push it into the lock. Step through. I'm Guardian of Time. The glow from the doors into the ages of magic...it's not supposed to intensify. I have to...investigate, don't I? It's duty._

__She stood, and straightened herself out, brushing off the black skirt and smoothing it, tightening the deep red bow on the back of the skirt. She unfastened a key from the chain around her waist. She pushed it into the lock, and the door opened before her.

"Freak! Freak! You're one of the little dark ones, one of the Dannans!"

"I am not!" 

Three boys gathered around the younger girl. They stood barely within range of Cornwall's great castle, its spires and towers visible in the distance. It was a cloudy day, the sun hiding its face behind stormy clouds. She had not thought her taunters would follow her with the threatening sky, not so far from the safety of the castle. The bundle of marsh reeds and plants she had collected so fastidiously were now floating in the pond, snatched from her hands by the boys. They circled her, laughing. One grabbed at her long dark hair and she slapped at him.

"Oh! Our little fairy girl is going to yell!"

"Stop it, Mark! I'm a guest in your house!"

"Yeah. _My _house. So you have to follow my rules. I'm going to be king of Cornwall, and your father will have to give me tribute!"

"My father isn't your vassal!" She began to tremble in fury. The boys took her shaking differently.

"Aw...look! She's gonna cry!" 

"Leave me alone!" 

"Alone, huh? Yeah, sure Morgan the faerie! Wait. Morgan the Faerie! Morgan le Fey! That's what I'm going to call you! Morgan le Fey! The daughter of the Dananns!"

"I'm not a fey!" she balled up her fists, ready to fight, her tiny little body still shaking in anger. 

"Morgan le Fey! Morgan le Fey!" the boys sang. Mark stopped, sneering. "You want us to leave you alone? Then call your fairyland friends to help you! They're your family! They'll come rescue one of their own!" 

Morgan began to take a deep breath to shout again, but as she did this, there was a great boom from the skies, and a shrieking figure hurtled out of the heavens, crashing down on the shocked figures of the boys. A silvery staff flew from the girl's hands, and Morgan caught it as it spun towards her, staggering back. "Huh?" the boys asked in unison. The girl that had landed on them moaned, then shook herself off and opened her eyes. They were the color of garnet, deep and red. Her hair was black, and in the dim light of the day around them, it glinted in shades of emerald. She wore clothes that were not of any design any of them had ever seen, a skirt indecently short and black, with a deep crimson bow on the front and back of the strange uniform. But most of all, Morgan stared at her skin. It was a deep bronze. The same color as her own. 

"Dark Sidhe!" Mark screamed in terror. He and his two cronies took off, running as fast as their legs could carry them. Their frightened voices drifted back, calling to each other about red eyes like a demon's. Morgan stared continuously through the episode, clutching the girl's staff. The newcomer shrugged and finally turned to Morgan. 

"Can I have my staff back now?" she held out her hand, palm up. Morgan switched between the hand and the eyes. Red. Garnet. Like the orb on the staff. "Ummm...." the girl tilted her head, and gestured with her hand to give her the staff. Morgan reluctantly passed it to her. 

_So who's this? And what did I interrupt? By the way she looks, and by not running off, she must not have been with them...idiots. Dark Sidhe? An elf? Me?_

"Are...are...." the girl across from Setsuna stuttered.

"I am Sailor Pluto, G-" Setsuna coughed roughly once. _Don't tell her that!_

"Sailor Pluto. Forgive me for dropping in so...abruptly." 

"No...it's all right. I'm glad." 

They stared at each other. 

"I'm Morgan." 

Setsuna regarded the girl. About Setsuna's age, she was short, delicate and finely boned. Deep bronze skin and wavy black hair, framing a narrow, sharp face. Her eyes were wide and violet, shaped like a hind's. Setsuna loved her clothes, dark, midnight blue, long to the grasses at her feet, sweeping. 

"Ah...how are you?"

"I'm fine. Are you? You fell out of the sky." 

"Yeah, I guess I did," Setsuna rubbed her backside a moment, grinning faintly. Morgan chuckled. Setsuna giggled. They began to laugh, eventually falling to their knees with laughter, gasping for air. 

"You fell...on Mark. On his precious...oh, sweet Lady...oh, the look on his face! Oh, Sailor Pluto, I will remember that forever! You have no idea...how much...I appreciate that...."

"It's okay. It's okay. I saw it! I saw it!" Setsuna wiped laugher tears from her garnet eyes. "What were they saying to you, anyway?"

Morgan grew quiet and distant at Pluto's question. "I..." a determined look set on her face as she decided something. "They were calling me a freak. I will show you why. Since you're like me," Morgan smiled determinedly. "Both of us look funny," she tossed her mane of black hair over her shoulder. 

_So I look funny, now do I? Well, I suppose you don't mean anything by it...._

Morgan was pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. "Sometimes it doesn't work right," she explained. "But I'll try." She crawled over to a bush of wildflowers. She closed her eyes and they flickered. Her hands closed around an emerging bud on a stem. Softly, almost imperceptibly, Morgan's tiny frame began to glow in a shade of deep purple, the misty colors centering on her cupped hands. Whorls of the mist curled around the small bud, and it began to blossom, petals opening slowly, then exploding out as a nova, tiny sparks of light glistening on the petals. Morgan broke from the spell, separating her hands and smiling satisfactorily. She nodded once. "That's why. Mark says I'm a fey." 

"And that's bad?"

"Well...no...but..." Morgan looked troubled, and Setsuna felt sorry for her. 

"Don't listen to him. Look. I can do magic too," she scrambled to her feet, bringing the Timestaff up. _I'll get a new, stronger power when I'm older. I was promised. When I'm ready, the new power will come. For now...._ "Temporal Flux!" she shouted, pointing the Timestaff at the pond. A streak of shimmering white light shot out, pulsating into the pond. The water shot up in a geyser of liquid, heavy pellets of water blasting in all directions as the murky bottom of the pond was exposed for a moment, the waters sweeping back in to cover the hole. Morgan stared. 

"Pluto. God of Death to the Hellenes and Romans," Morgan whispered and fell to her knees. "Am I to die, then? I would have thought Annwn would come for me, as I am Celt." she pressed her face down into the marshland. 

"I guard the Gates, yes, but I'm not the Destroyer, Morgan. Please stand up." Pluto helped her to her feet, yet Morgan still appeared afraid of her. "If I were the Destroyer, do you think I would have fallen out of the sky?"

Morgan quirked an eyebrow. "I suppose not. I always assumed the Destroyer would be the Crone." 

"Well...she's...." _Setsuna! Watch your mouth! Timestream! Paradoxes! Foreknowledge!_"...probably old," Pluto finished lamely. The two girls stared at each other, then grinned sheepishly, turning back to the pond which still churned from Setsuna's blast. "Do you live here?"

"No. This is Cornwall. I'm from Tintagel. Where are you from?"

"Far...near...it's difficult." 

"Elfland, surely." Morgan nodded her head sagely. Setsuna chuckled. 

"Elfland." 

Morgan explained to Setsuna about the herbs she'd been collecting before Mark's interruption, and the two began to re-collect the lost flora, chatting about fairies and troublesome boys until the sun began to bank in the west. "Will you be here tomorrow, Pluto?" Morgan asked as Setsuna handed her the last bundle of limp cattails and watercress. 

Pluto hung her head. "No."

"Back to fairyland." 

"You could say that. I'm sorry. I'd stay if I could." 

"It's all right. I'll remember what you said about taking boys down if Mark decides to try anything again....we're going home in a fortnight anyway...."

"Two weeks isn't very long."

"No...I suppose not...." Absently, Morgan gathered the last armloads of rushes from the stone they had rested them on. "Farewell, Sailor Pluto." 

"Good-bye," Setsuna took a key from her belt and held it aloft in the air with one hand, the other clasping the Timestaff. "I'll miss you, Morgan," Pluto added as she looked upward, then called out, "Onward, to the Road of Light!" 

Morgan watched her fade away from sight, into evening's oncoming mist.

Flick, swish. 

Whisp, shush.

The plates were cleared away from the ebony table. 

Setsuna left the dining room, the candles dimming behind her as she passed. _Clockwork. Always clockwork._She strolled through the mists in the corridors, Timestaff in hand, twirling it between her fingers idly. Everything checked, and no one was the wiser for her escapade the day before. No lightning from the heavens, striking her down for insubordination. The door to...Cornwall...Morgan called it, was still emitting the high glow, but that was all. Cornwall. Setsuna had researched it on returning to the palace. 

Cornwall. Southwest England, also called Great Britain. Northern Hemisphere, European Continent. Home to Queen Elizabeth, Shakespeare. Most famous legend: King Arthur. Capitol: London, Londinium. Will be a dominant conquesting culture in the Victorian Era, in approximately...." Setsuna had turned the computer screen off at that point. The Victorians and their global empire didn't concern her at that moment. Setsuna yawned as she completed her patrol, and retired to her room, a place draped in gossamer silk, with the lofty Doric style architecture that had dominated most of the vanished Silver Millennium. She unmorphed, and slipped into a crimson nightgown, crawling into a soft and welcome bed. 

"Setsuna, wake up."

A broad, gentle hand touched her shoulder where she slept, and Setsuna started out of her near sleep. "Father!" she shrieked joyously, flinging her arms around his neck. Chronos scooped his daughter up into a fierce hug. He was a large man, a Titan, his black hair crisping in waves around his shoulders, mingling with his wavy beard. Like Setsuna, he had bronze skin. Deep ocean eyes met hers. "Father, where have you been? Where's Mother?" At Chronos' lack of answer, Setsuna pulled away. "Mother's not here, is she? And you're not staying." 

"I am staying, Setsuna," she began to gasp in excitement, but froze at his somber countenance. "For a time. Until you to accomplish what you must." 

"What I must...?"

"Come. It is time you learned your final lesson," he took her small hand in his larger one, and led her from her chambers, taking her to the corridor of Doorways. "You have excelled in all your tests, Setsuna. And I see that now you have begun to chafe in your surroundings." Setsuna felt her stomach drop out from her. _He knew!_

He lifted his hand into the air, and the Timestaff formed there. He handed it to her. "Father?" she asked, timidly. He responded by touching her on the head, and her red aural light cascaded around her, garbing her in flowing robes of black and crimson. 

"You are of the Royal House of Pluto. A race of fine scholars and scientists, a race that has blood of magic in it, Setsuna. Remember that. You will be told who you are to tell yourself as by those who will meet you. Your powers will remain intact. Use them wisely when they are needed."

"Use them...Father...but...." she spluttered, clutching the Timestaff as a lifeline. "Father...are you telling me...to _interfere_?" she was stunned.

"This is your final lesson. You will age until you have reached the point you will remain. You must adapt and live among them, as you see fit. You already have, and you already will. Use what you know, Setsuna. Persevere. When you return, I will expect you to know the lesson's purpose. Go," he gestured at a door, which blew open before them. "Go, Setsuna. I will guard the corridors until your return. Go!" he pushed her forward, and she was enveloped by the light. 

Water. 

It swam above her head as she opened her eyes on the floor. Touching her head, she sat up, and immediately grabbed for the Timestaff. She was alone. The liquid patterns of water shifted on the walls of the wide cavern she sat in, light trickling through the patches of water above her, held back by crystallized glass formations, that looked much as ice. The crystal substance covered the walls, made up the floor, the edges catching prismic colors, sending tiny rainbows dancing in the watery light. A flight of steps and a bannister led up into the water above. The cave, otherwise, was empty. _Father, where have you sent me? Father, I'm scared. I've never been away...well, almost never....But that was not even an afternoon! Chafe, he said. Is this a punishment? Shouldn't I have come crashing from the sky, like last time? Or can Father control that? Can I? Setsuna, you dummy! What have you done? By the Wheel of Time! I'm all alone. Aren't I? Father said people would tell me...or did he just mean that I'd meet people? Okay, Setsuna. Don't panic. Panic is very bad. I'm safe at the moment...I think. Ummm....I am Meioh Setsuna. Or Setsuna Meioh. I am wearing robes, a gown of sorts, not my fuku, so that I won't attract attention. Father dressed me in this for a reason. He had to have. Hopefully, it's so I'll blend in. Hopefully, being key to that. Key!_She fumbled at her waist. The keys were gone, leaving her with only the Timestaff itself. 

_My keys are gone. My keys are gone! Calm. Don't panic._She looked around the room, taking it all in. There was a narrow table along one of the walls, and an outcropping that had a swath of crimson silk over it. _A room? Who's? Mine? The crimson silk...just like the palace.... _Otherwise, the crystal cave was empty. Her sight fell on the steps leading upward. _I can't stay here forever...might as well get moving.…_

She climbed the steps, coming to the top, where the water began. She pushed a hand up through it, and pulled it back. Dry. She grinned. _Illusion. Of course._She pushed her head up through the watery hologram, and found herself emerging in a wide lake, near the center. A narrow strip of rock could be seen just a few inches below the water line, leading towards the far shore. _The backbone of the cavern below, leading to the shore. Well.... _She sent the Timestaff to its dimensional pocket of space. She hitched up her skirts, and walked precariously along the ridge. Algae and had grown to it, and tiny fish darted around her ankles. _I'll have to clean that. Clean it? I'm not staying here. Careful, don't want to take another bath.... _Her black booted feet hit the thin strip of beach. The trees came almost straight up to the shore on this side of the lake, with a wider expanse of beach on the opposite side. It was a grove of oaks, their broad leafy branches towering above the waters. She looked at the lake. It glittered, sapphire silk in the noonday light, soft waves caressing the shore softly, with patches of watercress along some spots, and lily pads growing out into the right bank. A choir of frogs would likely be croaking their song there in the evening. Willows wept into the opposite bank, their tears trailing greenly in the sweet blue water.

_It's beautiful._

She headed to the right, working her way through the tangle of roots and vines, carefully keeping the sweeping skirts out of the mud on the bank. Her boots were caked with the muck as she got onto the grass at the forest's edge. When she turned a moment to look behind her, she was surprised to see tendrils of mist curling around the roots. _But it's noon! There shouldn't be any mist at this time of day. _The shoreline behind her began to blur and change as she watched. It remained the same, as well, one shore superimposed on another, one shady and shadowy, the other solid and clear. _Which is the real? The shadow, or the solid? The mist curls around the shadow, but penetrates the solid. Surely they can't both exist...can they?_She shook her head and turned back to the knoll before her, and was instantly taken aback. Four men on horseback occupied what had been empty space a moment before. Each wore armor, carrying the standards that she had come to recognize as the symbols for the Outer Planets on them, including her own Pluto standard. Each wore the colors of their world. The one in black, carrying the Pluto banner, turned his black palfrey around, and led a tall mare by halter to her. "Your mount, Lady Princess." Setsuna accepted the halter and clambered onto the horse's back. 

"Does she have a name?" 

Her response was silence, then the jerking of the Plutonian Knight's horse around. _I'll take that as a no...Kore. Your name is Kore. _The black mare tossed her head as if in agreement. _I'm glad you like it, Kore. _They pranced off after the four knights, and Setsuna began to wonder what she had gotten herself into. 

The ocean crashed into the shore violently along the coastline. They had traveled for nearly two hours at steady pace to the south and west, finally approaching the castle that lay there, hugging the rocky drop cliffs, thick walls expanding long across the city within. Field hands turned as they passed, watching the small procession and the colored banners, guessing that the young girl that rode in the center of the knights was a visiting noble. Pluto and Saturn standards rode to her front, while Uranus and Neptune closed behind her. The castle loomed ahead, and the portcullis groaned its way up as they reached the entrance, the Black Knight of Pluto calling their names and purpose. "In the name of the lady Setsuna, I order the opening of the gates! She is expected by the lady within." After a moment's hesitation, the iron gates shivered up the slats, and they entered. _Lady, not Lady Princess. I am noble, but not a princess. Remember. And I am expected._The Black Knight dismounted, and was at Setsuna's side before she could swing off Kore herself. 

A woman walked out of an archway to the right, and by her bearing and fine clothing, she was the lady that the Knight had mentioned. The newcomer was strikingly beautiful, Setsuna noticed, with a cascade of auburn hair that fell in waves down her back. Glowing amber eyes gleamed in her face, and brows like wings arched over them, framing them with black lashes. A slightly younger girl accompanied her, looking much the same, but with hair like cornsilk instead of the auburn color. The resemblance was unmistakable. Mother and daughter. The mother spread her arms, holding her hands out, palm up. 

"My lady," she curtsied, the long gown billowing around her. "I am Igraine, this is my daughter, Morgawse." Morgawse copied her mother's example. Setsuna curtsied in return, inclining her head generously. _They bow first. I am superior in rank. Or at least, they need me, or whatever Father gave them to accept me here. Morgawse does not look pleased. She wears a ring on her finger, intricate. Betrothed?_ "We are happy to see you have made a safe journey. You are welcome here until your Father sees fit to recall you to Rome." _Rome. Recalled? Igraine. Morgawse. Those names...familiar. Sound...fifth century? My early medieval skills are not so sharp as Ancient times...fifth century dress, as well, I believe. Fifth century...Rome is in uproar. The Emperors are tearing Rome to shreds from within. When was Nero again? Blast for a computer! But Rome is dying, splitting in half. Yes...._

__"The chest of treasure for Morgawse's dower and your keeping was extraordinarily generous, lady Setsuna, far more than we could have ever expected...." _Dower. Yes, betrothed. Chest of treasure. Gold? What did you give them, Father? Crystals from the Millennium? Igraine seems nice, regardless. Morgawse...._

"Mother! I'm so sorry I'm late!" another figure, younger than Morgawse, tore into the plaza. The figure was small and dark, with black hair and violet eyes. 

It was Morgan.

The two girls took only a moment to stare at each other. Setsuna ripped her eyes away, her face closed tightly. _Tintagel. We're at Tintagel. South and west. Cornwall. Tintagel is in Cornwall, and we are in Tintagel. Father has sent me back to the time I came to! Why? Tintagel. Cornwall...Igraine, Morgawse...Morgan. Who ignorant boys think is a Sidhe. Castles and horses, knights in armor. An age of magic. The WHEEL! It cannot be!_On her face, Setsuna paled as she recognized the names, the places, the age, the era. _I am in the age of Arthur._

Morgan watched Sailor Pluto, now wearing the most expensive, beautiful traveling gown she had ever seen, go completely pale under her bronze skin. Setsuna, Mother called her. Daughter of an ancient kinsman in Rome, one of Father's. They had been expecting the girl since two weeks after they had returned from visiting Mothers' cousins in Cornwall castle. The trip had also been to refresh ties with Cornwall, since old king Felix was aging rapidly, and his health faltering. If Mark had not detested her so, she may have been betrothed at this point, a thought that horrified Morgan. She had long since set her sights on Mona, Isle of the Druids. Morgawse's future husband had taken the kingship of Lothian only a year before, still younger than allowed to take rule, but the young lord Lot was strong willed, and had ousted half the court to place himself on the throne when he wished. Lothian was wealthy. Tintagel was not. The proceeds from the chest provided by the mysterious cousin Chronos Meioh in Rome sealed the pact with Lothian, and allowed for new trade. Indirectly, Setsuna's coming was a great blessing on Tintagel. Morgan would not mind it when Morgawse left. She was often patronizing and took the time to tell her how she looked strangely, and that she knew Morgan was really a changeling. Morgan fought a smile. Sailor Pluto. Setsuna. One in the same. And she looked even more fey than Morgan. But the question now became, why was a fey such as Setsuna in Tintagel? 

Igraine was continuing. "Your clothes arrived last week, lady, and we have prepared a room for you, to your specifications. Morgawse, would you care to...?"

"Lady Igraine," Setsuna interrupted. "Could Morgan show me? We appear to be of an age." 

"Yes. Of course," the direct naming of her daughter was not lost on Igraine. "How is it that you know Morgan?"

"My Father," Setsuna replied smoothly, recovering for her mistake. "I have been told a few things of your home. Forgive me for any lacking of knowledge." 

"Of course, lady Setsuna."

"Setsuna, please. To all of you," she ensured that Morgan caught her glance. The three women nodded gracefully. 

"Will your knights be remaining with us?"

The knight of Pluto responded for her. "No, my lady. We must take our leave of your court immediately. There are pressing matters in...Rome." 

"Then you have my pledge of safe conduct within Tintagel lands. A word of caution. The country remains a hotbed for the throne of Britain. It may be wiser to return by ship. I could provide for you if that is your wish."

"No, my lady. We take the land route," the Black Knight bowed, the red plume in his helmet bobbing. 

"As you wish. Go with the gods," the four knights remounted their horses, and cantered back from the main gate of Tintagel. 

"Lady Setsuna, eh?" Morgan asked as she led Setsuna down a hallway. "This way. Be careful. These halls twist a lot, and it's easy to get lost."

"I'm used to halls." 

"Really? They have castles like this in Elfland?"

"Morgan. I must explain. But first, I ask a question. How long has it been since we met? You look older." 

Morgan shrugged as they reached some steps and began climbing. "Some six months. It was early March when we were in Cornwall. Does time in fairyland run differently?"

"It has been but a day for me." 

"A day...." They reached the top of the stairs. "You no longer have your big key."

"I have it."

"Ah. Magic. Hidden in a pocket dimension."

"Well...yes," Setsuna was surprised at her term 'dimension'. "I didn't realize you understood the physics it requires to generate a multi-phasic pocket warp such as that."

Morgan stared at her. 

_Or not...._

"Here is your room. It's adjacent to mine." _Father. You knew! You watched me! Almost as if you were waiting for me to...no. Think about that later. Morgan's rooms beside mine. Good. I know someone. And I trust her. I think._"Setsuna, are you all right?"

"Fine. Here," she opened the door easily and brushed inside, passing through the outer chambers. Fresh rushes had been spread across the floor, and sweet candles of beeswax were on the mantle of the fireplace. Candelabras and sconces were set periodically through the room, and a tiny brazier glowed faintly in a corner, several thin punks sticking out of it. Red rose petals were strewn through the rushes, and saffron, in emerald and her aural crimson hung over the bedposts, the same material pooling on the floor to the sides of the narrow windows. Though a small door, there was a tiny room holding a bathing pool. _Father. First class, completely. At least I don't need to worry about cleanliness...._

"Do you like it? My room's through here." Morgan moved to a small trapdoor on the side of a bookcase. Setsuna went to it, seeing the latch and how Morgan manipulated it. Then she turned to the books. _'The Consolation of Philosophy.' 'The Republic.' 'Poetics.' 'Ethics.' 'The Confessions.' 'The Oedipus Cycle'_, with _'Antigone.'_ _In this day and age, this must have cost a fortune to assemble._

"Will you let me borrow your books? The trunk was heavy with them." _Ah. So they're mine, not Tintagel's. I wonder if they know how valuable these are._She picked up the _'Consolation of Philosophy'_ and looked at its scripted calligraphy pages. _Books. Real books. Not those dratted handcomputers, with fifty books on one disk. How do you curl up with a computer?_ Scripted black letters were painted across the creamy white pages. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of ink and time. "What are you doing?"

She opened her eyes and replaced the book. "I miss books."

"You don't have books in Elfland? What do you have? Scrolls?"

"Not exactly...but...something like that." Setsuna moved to the window and leaned out, looking over the fields. "It's beautiful here."

"No green fields in...."

"Morgan. Please stop referring to Elfland, fairyland, or any other magical place. I'm not what you think. And no, there are not green fields. Just mist. Lots and lots of mist. And doors."

"Doors? What's so interesting about doors?" 

"Nothing. It's what's beyond them." 

"Oh," was all Morgan could say. She settled herself down onto the footstool by Setsuna's bed. "You don't know what's going on, do you?" 

Setsuna's head snapped around. "What makes you say that?"

"You act like you've never seen the world before."

"Father says this is a lesson of some sort for me."

"What kind of lesson?"

Setsuna shrugged. "He said I have to tell him."

"Oh. One of those," her eyes rolled. "I get those sometimes. You'll probably go to the tutors with me. You can learn...Latin. Well...since you're supposed to be from Rome, you probably already speak it...."

"And Greek, and several others...some you may never have heard of. Japanese, for instance." 

"Ja-pan-ese." Morgan tasted the word. "No...Setsuna...could you teach it to me?" she giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. "Setsuna! If we both knew Japanese...then no one else would know what we were saying! That could be useful...." Setsuna flopped down in a rocking chair beside the room's desk. 

"Useful...and fun." 

"Imagine Mark when we start talking in some language he doesn't know!"

Several hours later, a servant had to come up ready to pry the two girls away from Setsuna's room for dinner. To his surprise, he found them dressed in gorgeous gowns, both hidden in Setsuna's clothing chest. Morgan in ocean blue, Setsuna in shimmering red. Setsuna had bound Morgan's hair up in twin pigtails, telling her it made her look like a princess of the moon. Morgan had giggled and insisted that the Goddess lived in the moon, and that she would most likely not wear what Setsuna was calling 'odango.'

"Let me do your hair!" Morgan had begged. 

"No! I love my odango just how it is!" 

"What's odango?"

"Dumpling. Japanese."

"Dumpling...." Morgan said thoughtfully. "Hey! I am _not_ a dumpling head!" Setsuna had laughed at that, somewhat knowingly. 

"Come on. We'll be late."


	2. Moments, That Grow Into Long Years

# Mists of Time

## Moments, That Grow Into Long Years

That was the beginning of the friendship. Setsuna and Morgan swiftly became inseparable over the winter months, and both were glad to see Morgawse leave for Lothian, on the Saxon Shore, far from Cornwall and Tintagel. Morgawse, as Morgan had told her, had a streak of meanness in her, which showed whenever it could, often in the form of bragging about her upcoming marriage. 

With Lord Gorlois away at war, Igraine was required to remain in the castle, keeping it occupied from any who would try to take it. Tintagel, on the coast and on Cornwall's eastern borders would be a valuable port and arming supply to launch campaigns to Ireland, Scotland, or Northern Britain. Skirmishes were reported back to Igraine almost weekly, and she constantly worried about her husband's safety. When a report came that he had done battle with Uther Pendragon's roving army, Igraine had collapsed on the floor, and had to be sedated by the castle's healer on awakening. Finally, she had managed to get the information that both Gorlois and Uther had survived. 

Word of Morgawse's wedding to Lot reached them through trader, and he told it well, describing that they were a beautiful couple, well matched, and that the omens showed them as such, and that they would be greatly involved in Britain's future. The dower had outfitted a new set of troops, which, incidentally, had secured Lot's borders to the north and east from the invading Saxons and the occasional strike of Jutes or Frisians. The Picts had not yet made a move, and it was whispered that they feared Lot's strength. Igraine dismissed the boast before Morgan and Setsuna, but in court she loudly supported it, insisting on the good match and the well garrisoned Saxon Shore. 

Morgan and Setsuna were trained in Latin and other languages, as well as math and astronomy. Setsuna amazed her teacher with her already well adapted grasp of the mechanics, and Morgan was not far behind her. Once, when the tutor began to contradict Morgan's answer to an astronomical question, a riddle the two girls had puzzled out only the night before, Setsuna had leapt in, defending Morgan, who understood the theorem, but it had been somewhere at one in the morning when the answer had been found, and did not grasp it well enough to argue. Needless to say, the tutor was left spluttering, and eventually ran from the room, while Morgan and Setsuna had howled laughter. Igraine had lectured them later, but then sighed and promised to find them a teacher that was more up to date on current methods. Morgan had later forced Setsuna to confess that her knowledge was not found anywhere on the Earth. Setsuna had cryptically remarked, "Not in this time," and could not be convinced to say any more on the subject. 

Winter came hard and cold, and Setsuna celebrated her birthday, then Morgan, when the spring came. Setsuna could hardly believe her eyes as she aged, and often was dragged from a mirror, examining the new thinness to her face, the higher brows and and cheekbones. Morgan complained that she was only twelve and was very unlikely to resemble a woman yet. Setsuna laughed and retorted that she had seen Morgan the day before twirling in the mirror with her clothes pulled tight around her waist, looking for hips. Morgan had flushed, and Setsuna had rolled with laughter. Despite these happy times at the castle, Setsuna, after going to bed at night was distraught, often laying awake, staring at the ceiling for hours on end. 

_Morgan. Morgawse. Who will mother the Destroyer of Britain's golden age? I remember the tales. Some say Morgan. Far too many. Dear gods, please let it be Morgawse. The boy's name. Mordred. Mordred, who would kill Arthur, kill and bring to a close the Golden Age of Britain. Elizabeth's rule will be called Golden as well...but that is a thousand years and more from now. And humanity will not be so obsessed with Elizabeth as with Arthur...it will be a great age, but this, this is the stuff of legends. Mordred will be younger than Arthur. The tales say he is either Arthur's bastard, or his nephew. Too many, far too many say bastard son. Morgan. I do not want her to be his mother! It is some years off...Morgan is not old enough to bear children, not yet. Arthur is not even born! She is twelve! Surely that is a sign it is Morgawse, with Lot, who shall parent the child! Not Morgan! Please not Morgan! The time must come soon that Gorlois dies...gods, I can't tell Morgan! Not that the man who will kill her father will bed then marry her mother! But...what if he doesn't? Then there will be no Golden Age at all! Arthur...he'd never be born. If only I could know more of what happens! Some knowledge is dangerous, but how dangerous is all? Morgan...le Fey. Morgan of the Fairies. Morgan, if you knew how history and legend record you. How you hate it now, to be called a fey. And where am I in this? There is no record of a Setsuna. No 'Sailor Pluto' in the tales. Why am I here? Father! Answer me! Please!_

Tintagel was beautiful in spring. 

The sea was calm and peaceful, quiet.

That was the year the wars went from bad to worse. 

With the abandonment of Britain by the Romans, the island was left easily open to invading forces from the continent. So often the attacks came that the eastern lands bordering the Channel earned the name 'the Saxon Shore.' Beside fighting the Saxon invaders, the petty kings, such as Lot, all strove to rule the island, to demolish the surrounding kings, burn and pillage their lands- but not too much. If the king was successfully killed, those would be their lands. The most dangerous was rumored to be a renegade noble, landless, a man named Uther, who bore the standard of a golden dragon on a scarlet background. Men said that those who followed him were the strongest warriors in Britain. That he brought a mighty wizard, a druid bard named Taliesin with him, who cast spells of protection over his liege before battle, charms to keep him safe. Many scoffed. Morgan listened in rapture. She had not given up the hope of going to Mona, the druid isle. Word said that Uther, on conquered lands he now held, was building a castle near that place, and had named it Camelot. Mona was near to the site, and it was whispered that the druids favored Uther for it. It was well with the people they did. But a new faith had begun to creep into the Island of Britain. It was a strange cult, following a new God of the Romans. They drank his blood every Sunday. Morgan had told Setsuna how she thought that was disgusting. Setsuna had informed her easily that it wasn't real blood. Morgan had sniffed and said the religion would never take root, not with the druids to show their greater strength. She was very wrong. It was Christianity.

Gorlois's men were encamped several leagues north of Cornwall's borders, as Uther Pendragon had swept perilously close to the borders he defended. Uther with his men were hidden in the forests to the east, not so far from a beautiful lake, their tents and cookfires dotting the spaces between the trees. Uther was a handsome man, in the way of a warrior, with hands callused by years of training with swords, tracks of scars ribboning across his muscular body. The tendons in his neck stood tightly, the pulse throbbing as he held council with his bard, the man Taliesin. Uther was the man who acted in place of his brother, Ambrosius, who many called King of England. Uther slammed his fist on the table of his tent, and shouted as Taliesin watched passively, his long slender hands forming a temple in his lap, resting. Serene blue eyes met Uther's fiery green as Taliesin denied his leige's request. "I will not cast a glamour on you, Uther, to deceive the lady Igraine." 

"Damn it, Taliesin! I must see her! Gods, man, you can just sit there? You know about Igraine! I will not bypass the opportunity!"

"You haven't seen the woman since you left to campaign years ago, Uther. She has two daughters, one grown and married. You do not know if her feelings remain as they were when she was a girl."

"All the more reason to see her! I've conquered nearly half Britain, while her husband acts as a thorn in my side, constantly stabbing me! Gorlois is camped several miles from here, and there is a clear path to the castle Tintagel. I'm not going to rape her, dammit! I want to see her!"

"And if her feelings have been unaltered?"

"Then...then I will worry about that when the time comes! By the Saxon god's bloody balls, I'm not going to let the opportunity pass by! Taliesin! This is an order from your warlord! I command you to use that druid magic of yours and help me!"

"I am helping you, by not sending you to a death sentence. If you're caught-"

"I will not be caught! You're a fussy hen, worrying about a chick! I'm a man, a soldier, and I command you...!"

With that, Taliesin stood and left the tent, leaving Uther to rant at his retreating back. Despite what Uther thought, Taliesin was not beholden to him. He served the gods, served his harp. Running a hand down his beard, still the deep brown it had always been, even through Taliesin now approached middle age, he strode down and away from the tents, walking through the woods with his lanky gait, picking his way around the trees and roots of the forest floor. Such a time was one for quiet, and time to let Uther calm himself. By morning, the episode would lay forgotten, and Taliesin would again be Uther's trusted advisor. Some whispered, Taliesin knew, with his bards' ears, that he protected Uther in battle. Words. No man may be saved in battle from a descending blade. But tricks of the eye and magic of the mind...that was different. That he could do, and had done, taught by the men of the druid isle. But to interfere in Uther's love life was beyond his desire to aid. He helped and advised so to unify England, and Uther, despite his boyish callowness, was strong enough to do so. Uther was not an evil man, if not the best man, and was far better than many on the island of England who had the power and skill to lead.

Taliesin broke through the foliage to come onto a lake, the trees coming directly to the shore. Opposite, sands there were shot through with spots of grass and roots, poking their fingers into the air from their usual bed in the earth. There were rocks on the shoreline, and Taliesin absently regretted his not retrieving his harp before coming here. Meter and rhyme to song began to take shape, and words drifted in and out, of a sad song that was writing in his mind. The lake was placid, frogs croaking their hymn to the dusk. A moon sliver was beginning to peer through a strand of cloud. Crickets began to chirp around him, and lightningbugs did a tiny fairy dance over the water. 

Setsuna slipped her nightgown over her head, smoothing the folds around her body. She unbound her hair and combed it before the polished mirror. Morgan had gone to bed early that night, claiming she had a headache. On the way to her room, Morgan had divulged the true reason. They had been cutting tubers in the kitchens that day, helping with dinner as Igraine had ordered them to. The steady rhythm of the chopping, the slicing, chopping, slicing, chopping, splash of the pieces as they struck the steaming copper pot, chopping, slicing, chopping, slicing. Morgan's head had begun to bob back and forth, then she had stood for a moment, unmoving, staring at her hands, the knife in one, a piece of turnip in the other. Then she had dropped them, collapsing to the floor with a sharp intake of breath. Half the kitchens had run to her, the daughter of the lord, passing out. Morgan had shook off the strangeness shortly, and was back on her feet. Setsuna had accompanied her from there, out onto the wall for fresh air. Morgan had said nothing, but had whispered of a bad feeling, then refused to say more. 

The comb whisked from the ends of Setsuna's hair, and she replaced it on the table, looking into the mirror carefully. _And so, the powers of Morgan begin to grow. Maybe. She has had these for some time...I saw that on meeting her...how strong will she become? If she is sent to Mona...will I go, as well? Is it my choice? The Isle of the Druids. What could I learn there? What could Morgan? Premonitions. Morgan is said to have that power. What if she sees who I am? If anyone, let it be her I reveal it to! She has been my best friend for so long now. _She spun and nearly crawled into bed, when she realized she had forgotten to bid good night to Igraine as was ritual. She tiptoed down the hall, wound her way up the corridor to Igraine's chambers. The door was open halfway, as Igraine left it before she retired to bed. Setsuna nearly pushed it open to walk in, when she heard the words being spoken inside. 

"...camped by the lake. Gorlois will attack tomorrow, after dawn, most like. Uther has a good many forces with him, but we'll prevail, milady!" 

"Of course, Nola. Bring me the bowl." 

"Yes, lady," there was the sound of water splashing, then Igraine thanking Nola. "Are you holding up with all this?"

"Of course," the words were faint.

"Ah...lady, don't worry about Gorlois! Or...is it Uther you think of?"

"Nola! Hush! Speak not of such things!"

"Ay, milady. It is. I've held my tounge for many years now. Watched you two make mooncalf eyes at each other way back when. I'm your nurse! Or was when you needed it. Love you like my own daughter, I do. What mother wouldn't speak quiet? Hush, child. Nary a thought goes though your head that doesn't tear you between the two. I know you love Gorlois, but I also know your first love. There's not a thing like it. Carry the torch so many years you have."

"Nola, you must hush now. There are people about. The battle will likely engage in the morning. Gorlois will chase Uther and his brigands back to that half built castle he's constructing!"

"Milady, you don't mean...."

"I do!" there was the sound of a brush slapping the table, then the legs of a chair scraping across the floor as Igraine stood. "A fool's dream! I will speak no more of it! Nola, leave!"

Setsuna scrambled from her position on the door's frame to several feet in the direction she had come, and as Nola came out the door, she began to walk smoothly forward, as though just approaching, and smiled brightly to the old nurse. "Good even, Nola."

"Good even, lady. The lady is in a foul temper tonight. Mayhap you best return to bed." Nola's pale eyes hazily focused on her. 

"Are you certain, Nola? I always say good night to her...maybe I can cheer her up."

"I'm afraid not, alanna. You'd best to bed. Is Morgan sleeping well?"

"Very, Nola. She was exhausted from her ordeal today."

"Of course...come on. I'll tuck you in," Nola led Setsuna back to her rooms, and buried her under the covers, kissing her on the forehead. _If she only knew I was hundreds of years older than she...I wonder if she still would tuck me in. She's so kind. I wonder if I will ever put a child to bed such as this. A little girl, to call me Setsuna-mama. Children. So adorable._

Nola turned down the lamp and closed the door behind her. Within the space of a few breaths, Setsuna flung the covers off, and reached up into the air, pulling the Timestaff from where it awaited. Her hand gripped the center comfortably. _Hello, old friend. It's been long, ne? I haven't needed you, I'm afraid. You don't mind, I hope. Uther lays not far from Tintagel's borders. Is this the time? I must be certain. Old friend, Garnet Orb, I pray you show me the way!_ She turned the staff to the mirror on her dresser, and it shimmered, then clouded, strands of mist curling around the edges of the glass. 

"I will not cast a glamour on you, Uther, to deceive the Lady Igraine." 

"Damn it, Taliesin! I must see her! Gods, man, you can just sit there? You know about Igraine! I will not bypass the opportunity!" the sounds vibrated softly, murkily around her ears, and then stilled. The scene within the glass clouded, the mists spiraling together. Setsuna gasped and staggered back, her head throbbing with the effort. She leaned against the bedpost, supporting herself. _This is the time. This is the hour. The night. It must be. Gods. If Taliesin refuses, then Arthur is never conceived, never born. Father, you told me I may interfere. You told me this is for me to live out. But somehow, I am not remembered. At least not as Setsuna Meioh, Sailor Pluto. Then who am I? Paradoxes. Time in circles. I must ensure that what has happened, will happen. It is my duty to protect the timestream. If I cannot guard the Gates, then by the gods these people swear by, I will do what I can! Garnet Orb! Lend me your power! I must accomplish my mission here! Send me to Taliesin!_

Setsuna lifted the Timestaff to the sky, and called out, "Pluto Planet Power! Make-up!" she changed, her clothes reforming into the uniform she had not donned in more than a year here. Tiny, round red earrings appeared. Flat boots hit the floor with a satisfying smack. _It's good to be back. Now, to Taliesin!_

Light fluxed around her, and she teleported, her eyes reopening...in the crystal cave. _The cave? I thought I was going to Uther's camp...maybe this is the only place I can teleport to. Well...for now it will do. Taliesin and Uther's camp is not far. I'll have to walk. Not exactly glamourous, but it will have to do. _

She headed up to the steps and came up out of the waters. 

Taliesin had seen the mists shifting over the lake, and sensed magic very strong here. He had ambled up and down the shore, singing the song he was working out to himself in the brightening moonshine. When a splashing occurred, he ignored it, thinking it a fish. When the sound came again, growing steady on the water, Taliesin turned, and there, in the center of the lake, a girl walked on the waves. She carried a staff like none he had ever seen, and wore clothes unlike any he had ever heard of. She spotted him even as he saw her, and he felt a shudder ripple through him. Garnet eyes, and hair that shone emerald in the moon's silvery glow. Surely a goddess of the water. She hesitated a moment as they locked gazes, and then Taliesin dropped to his knees, confronted with the power of a child goddess, who had the power to do such magic. She approached him. "My Lady," he bowed deeply from the waist. "I am the one called Taliesin, a druid bard. I am honored by your presence."

Setsuna forced herself not to laugh, but could not help a small, knowing smile. _He thinks me a goddess! Shall I play the part? Would a goddess convince him more than a mere girl? 'Sailor Senshi' means nothing to him...but a fey...a fey may demand his attention. Yes...._

"Rise, Merlin. You have a destiny to fulfill. There will be a child born, the child of the man Uther Pendragon and the woman Igraine. That child, he shall be borne of all England, and is the man you so desperately seek." _So desperately seek...Setsuna...these words...these are my words? Do I truly speak so? This...this is right, somehow. This...this feels so right… _As she thought this, her aural light began to flit around her body, strengthening, growing as she understood what she was beginning to do. _I am creating the legend. Had Taliesin not seen me this night, had he come here, and I not have told him otherwise, then the Age of Arthur would never exist. This is my duty. This is why Father sent me here. But is the life of one boy, even Arthur, and the peace and glory he will bring, is that reason enough to send the Guardian from the Gates? This is the lesson. But only a part of it... _"You will guard the boy. Train him and teach him, protect him as his guardian. Rise, Merlin, and fulfill the promise of time and fate. This is your destiny." 

"It will be as you say. But...my Lady, what shall I call you?"

"Call me nothing. I have no name to give, Merlin."

"Then I shall give you one. As a bard, I must name things. It is my..." he smiled faintly. "...it is in my blood." His eyes lit as he swept his gaze over the lake. Setsuna waited patiently for him, amusement playing on her lips. "You...I shall call you the Lady of the Lake." 

Much later, Setsuna would allow herself to feel shock at those words. When she was again at the castle Tintagel, curled warm in her bed, knees tucked up under her, thighs pressed against her chest. _Lady of the Lake. Lady of the Lake. I am the Lady of the Lake. The woman who has such mystery. Am I so mysterious? I hear guards outside, shouting, "Lord Gorlois has returned! Summon the lady Igraine at once!" It has begun. What have I wrought? Wrought. I begin to sound as these people, use their words. I haven't spoken 'okay' in years now, a word not created for many centuries. Not since Morgan questioned it. Will they summon Morgan? Please, no. She would see through the glamour, I'm sure. She is powerful, her strength sleeps, stirring at times, such as today. It is a dragon, and I must fear it. I know not her reaction to what I have done. Arthur will be Uther's bastard, as is known. Uther will be crowned king, but his hard fought empire will crumble under him. It is not his destiny. It is his son's. I wonder if he will find any comfort in that. The glamour. The Merlin is powerful. But there are those in the castle who will see the slant of the shadows as other than Gorlois's. Servants, though often dismissed, are not stupid. They have sharp eyes and ears that absorb all things in the castle's life. That Arthur is Uther's will be discovered. Or else no one would know in the annals to be written, the legends to be told. Gorlois...he dies. Will it be tomorrow? Killed by Uther's hand? Father, I hope I have acted correctly. There is such a price attached to these actions. Lady of the Lake...._

Sleep closed her eyes and she slept. Setsuna did not hear Morgan stir in her room, troubled by a sad dream, where a man took the place of her father. She went to Setsuna's chamber, and found her exhaustedly asleep. She felt pity for the sleeping Setsuna, and left her to her dreams. She heard the excitement in the hall, and peered with her violet eyes down through the bannister. A man she had never seen stood there, and the men called him, "Gorlois." But this was not her father. Morgan watched as he was escorted to his room, claiming he had a headache and felt somewhat dizzy. They led him there, where Igraine waited. Morgan let out a shriek of rage, and began to scream. Her tiny figure hurtled down the stairs, calling the disguised man false, a fake. Orders were snapped that the girl be restrained. Morgan was carried off, back to her rooms, and placed there. In the clamor outside her door, Setsuna awoke sleepily, and heard Morgan's cries of rage. _She knows. Why did she wake? Her magic. This must be a part of things. Forgive me for having to lie to her. I hate having to lie to her. There will be so much change in these next few weeks. Next few months. But it must be done. Morgan, I am so sorry._

Consoled by Setsuna, Morgan cried herself out, hysterical sobs breaking down into a fitful sleep. 

'Gorlois' left before dawn, and as it takes an army past that time to ready itself for battle, he returned to his camp. Igraine was quiet that next day, and was left to herself. She watched out her tower window, resting her head on the eaves. Once, she gasped. It was near to midday. She closed her eyes at this, and placed a hand on her belly, resting it there. Word came swiftly that evening. The battle had been short, Gorlois's troops, routed. Cornwall, and Tintagel with it, was now owned by Uther Pendragon. 

Uther camped at Tintagel's wall that night. Morgan saw the man. She kept her tiny face closed, her deer-like wide eyes unemotional, cold and flat. "I will hate him forever." 

"Morgan, you can't mean that...." Setsuna had protested.

"Yes, I do," they were not the words of a child. They were hard and frosty, inlaid with fire, and Morgan said them calmly. "I will hate Uther Pendragon for all time. He murdered my father. I see how he watches my mother. Vulture. Nothing more than a vulture. Picking at Britain's bones. He may live here. I can do nothing about that, now. The bard, with him, Taliesin. He's the man who cast that spell on Uther. Don't tell me it was anything but a spell, Setsuna. He made him look like my father. He tricked my mother. He's a bard, and a druid bard at that. He will be living here, I have Seen it. I will learn everything I can from him until I go to Mona. I _will _go to Mona. I will become a druidess. A priestess. I will become the most powerful priestess of the Goddess to have ever lived. Then I will kill Uther Pendragon."

It was at Gorlois' funeral that the girls first met Uther and Taliesin. They had worn black veils over their faces, the veil of death, obscuring their features. It was at the wake that they were introduced. It was odd that Uther, the conqueror, attended the funeral of one he had killed. It was not by his hand, directly, that had struck Gorlois down, but it was his orders, his strategy, that had allowed his forces to take the day. Morgan watched the ceremony quietly, as the priestesses of the Crone chanted over the body of her father. She remained like jade, hard and cold and emotionless. Stone does not cry. 

Igraine called the girls over to her, where she spoke to Uther and to Taliesin. _I have had time to ready myself. Taliesin. What will he say to me? Morgan recognized me, even through the first time we met I was in Scout form. Will Taliesin? Very likely. He is the Merlin._

"Morgan, Setsuna," Igraine introduced. "This is Uther Pendragon, and the druid Taliesin." Politely, the girls removed the veils from their heads. Morgan watched Uther evenly, dismissing Taliesin for the time being. Setsuna watched only Taliesin, keeping her lashes lowered demurely to the bard. _He controls himself well. No shock registers on his face. Only in his eyes. I see the widening, the surprise written there. He sees me, and knows that I was at the lake._

"Lady Setsuna. Lady Morgan." Taliesin greeted gravely. "We regret your loss." 

"Yes." Morgan stated, then turned and left her mother, Setsuna, and the two men to watch her retreat. 

"Forgive her," Igraine asked. "She is upset over Gorlois' death. Excuse me," Igraine hurried off after Morgan, weaving her way through the people. Setsuna returned to the two men and curtsied politely. 

"Lords. Has your stay been a good one?" 

Uther kept his gaze on the figure of Igraine, and then wordlessly took off after her. "Forgive Uther," Taliesin told Setsuna, who had remained untouched by Uther's unintended insult of abandonment. "He is impetuous. My lady?" his arm was offered to Setsuna. "I believe we must discuss a few things." Setsuna accepted the arm and Taliesin escorted her outside the hall into the dusk. "So, my Lady of the Lake, you appear to enjoy mingling with mortals."

"I am no goddess, and I would appreciate it that you would not speak of me so." 

"You are no usual child, and I am compelled to treat you as such. When I come close to you, I sense time, growing slow and thick around you, then swirling. I was told that you are the child of a Chronos Meioh, one of Rome. Chronos. God of time. Is he your father, Lake Lady?"

"I told you not to call me that. But yes. No one else knows of it, and you must not speak of it. I am here on my Father's business." 

"Ah. I see. Then I call you lady Setsuna, as all others here seem to, even through your blood is that of a god. Morgan hates Uther, doesn't she?"

"Yes. She's young, and has had her father killed. From what I understand, she was close to him as a child, and was greatly saddened at his leaving to fight for Cornwall. Felix is weak, and will die soon. Mark is a boy, growing, but still young as yet. Now Cornwall has no one to fight for her."

"Uther will not allow the Saxons to reach this place."

"The Saxons...the Saxons are not my concern. Uther will leave a garrison here, will he not?"

"Yes. To protect the place. Cornwall is weak without Gorlois. King Felix, as you say, is weak and dying. Mark is young yet, growing, but still a stripling. He is not the leader that Cornwall needs."

"No. He is not. You will remain with the garrison. Morgan has Seen it."

"I go with Uther...."

"No. You go with Arthur. He is your King, your only King, who you must be loyal to. Uther is only his father, and a small part of this legend. You must be here when the child is born. Morgan and I need you as well. She has not forgiven you for your part in this, but-"

"Has she forgiven you?" Setsuna winced. "Ah. She does not know."

"She is my best friend. I do not want her to feel betrayed. But the ebb and flow of time must occur in the order it has. I know what will happen, but not how. Arthur is the child of Uther Pendragon and Igraine, born bastard. He will be raised by the man called Merlin, who is a bard often known as Taliesin. Morgan learns much magic from you, and will go to Mona as she wishes to learn more. Igraine holds onto her youngest...but with Arthur's birth, the grip will loosen, and Morgan, with your help, will be able to go to the druid Isle. Now...I'm hungry. There's roast hen inside and bread. I'm starving. Let's go," Setsuna led Taliesin inside to where the banquet tables were laid out. 

Taliesin did remain, much to Uther's anger. The druid had argued that Igraine was pregnant with his child, and that the boy needed to be protected by him. Uther, otherwise childless, was stunned, and demanded to know how Taliesin knew such a thing. "Time knows all, after awhile," Taliesin responded, to which Uther threw up his hands at what he termed 'bard talk' in riddles. Uther asked Igraine to wed him. In horror, Igraine had refused, claiming correctly that the time was far to close to the time of mourning for Gorlois. Uther swore he'd return in a year for her. Igraine had nodded once, in acceptance, and Uther had taken this as a yes for his proposal, leaving the following week for Camelot. 

Taliesin remained, and trained the girls as months passed and Igraine's belly swelled out like a smiling moon. Morgan's random visions stemmed as Taliesin taught her to control them. Morgan absorbed his lessons like a sponge, soaking in the information and often begging for more. Her powers began to grow as she did. Word came, from Lothian, that Morgawse was pregnant, and the omens showed a boy, with a good future. Two months later, word again came that the child was born, a boy. Igraine railed about the poor information network and its slowness, even as she bundled together swaddling clothes for Morgawse. The messenger declared that they had named the boy Gawain, and was now heir to Lothian. _And so the first...at least that I have heard...of the heroes is born. Was Kay not older? Yes...Ector's son? Then perhaps Gawain is not the first. Still...winter is here, and Igraine is bloated in the stomach, her ankles swelling. She will deliver soon._

When Arthur came, he came screaming, face red and fists punching. "A fighter!" Igraine had cried in delight. "I have two daughters, but now I have a son as well...Taliesin, I am so blessed!" Igraine rocked the baby and held him whenever he cried, at night or day. Morgan had at first refused to see what she called, "Uther's whelp," but Setsuna finally dragged her to the cradle, and they peered over the child, who was sleeping. 

"Setsuna...he's so cute." Morgan whispered, sticking her finger into his tiny fist. "My baby brother. Do you think he'll be a fighter someday?"

"Yes. And with his big sister a druidess, who will mess with him?" Morgan's face set. 

"Taliesin has been hinting that mother is relenting in letting me go. He thinks the spring. Arthur. He's Uther's. I Saw it. There are rumors...my actions that night tipped them off...but still. Arthur is not Uther. His son, maybe. But he's also mother's," she scrunched up her nose and made cooing sounds at the baby, who sleepily opened his eyes and burbled. "I'll take care of him. No one messes with my baby brother!" Morgan decided this, and grinned at Setsuna.


	3. Mist, Which Obscures Destiny

# Mists of Time

_ _

## Mist, Which Obscures Destiny

Spring came, and with it renewed fighting along the borders of the petty kingdoms and the Saxon Shore. Uther finally declared himself King of Britain, with the death of his brother, Ambrosius. Ambrosius had been born in Britain, then when Vortigern had invited the Saxons to British shores, he had been smuggled to Brittany, across the Channel, with his younger brother Uther. After raising an army, the brothers returned, ousted the usurper, and killed the Saxon king Hengist, Uther then scrambling to regain the lands he had lost in Vortigern's betrayal of his country. 

Morgan and Setsuna were informed by Igraine that they would go to the Isle of Mona when the weather cleared. Morgan was ecstatic, her dream finally happening. Taliesin would remain at Tintagel with Arthur. An escort was formed for the girls, and they left a month later. Along the road, Setsuna once spotted the Knight of Neptune when they traveled close to the shore. _Watching me? Unsuprising. The other three are likely nearby. I wonder if they appear only when I'm traveling, or they're always around? If they were around all the time, I would have seen them. Maybe it's best. We've been left alone by raiders and armies. With all we carry, clothes and money for travel and such....Maybe they have somewhat to do with that. _Kore whickered as though in agreement, tossing her black head. Setsuna stroked her neck in reassurance. Kore had been young when arriving in Tintagel, and was now a full grown horse. Morgan rode alongside Setsuna, and they narrowly passed Camelot, where Uther lived. Morgan kept her eyes averted from the place, but was the first in the retinue to spot Mona. "There! I see it! Look, Setsuna!" she pointed at a hazy disc on the horizon, wrapped in mist. They had hurried forward to the shore, where a longboat with several small men greeted them. 

"Goin ta the isle, ladies?" One of the men asked, tiping his hat. "See ya are, with what ye got wit ye." He smiled, yellow, crooked teeth glowing in the morning light. One of their guards offered to pay the fare, but the man scoffed and refused it. "The druids, they give plenty of pay fer the ferryin'. No need to give me yer coins. Give 'em to the pretty girls fer their trips to the shore. Not that they'll get many, I'll wager." he winked. Morgan blushed. It was the first time anyone save her mother or father had called her 'pretty'...Setsuna didn't count since she looked just as strange. The clothes and money were put aboard one ship, their horses on another, and the girls cast off, several of the men poling them along the waters. They watched the shoreline recede, and waved to the guards that had escorted them there. They sat in the back of the boat, and white mists circled around them, breathing. "It's cold." Morgan whispered, and Setsuna pulled her cloak tighter around as did Morgan. They broke through the clouds, and pulled up to shore. A woman waited there for them, with long brown hair, trailing to her knees. A hairband wrapped around her head, circling it. Dark blue eyes twinkled as the newcomers stepped off the boat. A blue crescent moon had been tattooed to her forehead, freshly painted in blue woad. She wore simple clothes of dark blue, off setting her eyes. They were loose and baggy, with a hood on the neck, tied at the waist with a thin sash of silver color. 

"I'm Nimue," she introduced herself, smiling at the girls. Her hands lay folded before her. "You are Morgan. And you...Setsuna. From Tintagel. Welcome to Mona. You are the last to arrive of your group. Please. Your horses will be taken to the stables and your clothes to your rooms, although you will be issued novice robes shortly. Follow me," she turned and her skirts swished against the path up the beach. Morgan and Setsuna followed. _Nimue. Yes, I know that name. Too many versions of the tale around her to know which is correct. So here is she is a druidess. Last to arrive of our group? What group? I know we were expected, but I didn't know we had a 'group' and were 'expected.' _"I will be your teacher while you are here," Nimue told them as they continued up the path. Morgan and Setsuna began to search for the houses and buildings, but saw none. They passed, eventually, a stone nemeton, arranged for astronomical work. Two women in robes like Nimue's were attending to a stargazer, marking movements on a chart in hand. Eventually they approached a thickly wooded area with many footpaths crisscrossing the space between trees. Women moved along them, bent over business or strolling easily, enjoying the scenery. One older woman led a troop of young girls in black robes through the space, heading towards the monolith. Nimue led them to a small hill...then down a hole into a earthen house. _Of course! No structures. They live in the earth. _The house was long and wide, slightly domed in the ceiling, with hard packed dirt between roots from trees above. The first chamber they entered was a empty room with tables and chairs, a game of chess half complete on one table. A case of books lined a wall. The second room was a sleeping chamber, with eight beds lining the wall, which curved around them. Two beds had no pillows, and had a black robe on each. "Your beds. Morgan yours is the inner one, Setsuna the outer, judging by the size of the robes. Your things will be placed beside them. The nightstand beside the bed is yours. A mirror will be brought for each of you. I'll leave you to change into the robes, then we will return to the others for lesson. Supper is at sunset. We wake one hour before the dawn to sing the morning hymns. You'll learn quickly. I'll be back shortly."

Nimue left, closing the door behind her. Morgan and Setsuna stared at each other a moment, then Morgan gasped. "We're here. We're really here!" she sank onto her bed, picking up the robe. "An acolyte! Oh, Setsuna...." She closed her eyes and held the robe to her. Setsuna picked up her own. 

"Let's get dressed. Nimue may not give us much time. And a lesson already! We just got here!"

"I don't mind." Morgan stripped her tunic off and slipped the robe on, fastening the belt. "Did you see that nemeton? It's just like the Stone Henge! Smaller though. I wonder if we'll go to see it. Do we put the hood up?"

"Nimue's wasn't." Setsuna shook out her hair. "I didn't see anyone else's up either. What do you think the crescent moons are for?"

"Where?"

"On Nimue's forehead."

"That? That's the symbol of the Goddess."

"Of course." Setsuna lapsed into thought about that. _The Goddess's symbol. Prayer to the Queen long gone. I wonder what the reaction would be if I said I'd actually met her. The Queen herself is not a goddess...not in the immortal all-powerful sense the druids must be thinking. I wonder if it is Queen Serenity they pray to, or the Power she serves? The druids are not fools. It must be the Power.The Goddess. Morgan refers to Her as though She were greater than the smaller, although still great, gods such as Annwn and Cerridwen and Brigid. Epona. Bran. Kernunnos. Perhaps here I may learn what she means. _There was a rap at the door, and Nimue slowly opened it. 

She led them down through the forest. "The men live on the island's opposite side. You will see them on occasion, and on certain holidays. Here," they reached a clearing, circled in ash and alder trees. The sun was nearly at its peak, but the thick canopy of leaves provided a great deal of shade. There were seven girls sitting around the clearing, most of an age with Morgan and Setsuna, while one was quite a few years younger. They lay around, some watching an anthill with interest, others sat watching birds fly overhead. 

"Mama!" the youngest girl leapt up from the birdwatchers and ran to Nimue, who scooped her up, resting her on her hip. Morgan stared at the child. She was young, about five or so, with milky skin and blue eyes like lapis lazuli. But her hair was white, the color of sea foam, and wavy. She leaned around her mother Nimue, and owlishly watched the two newcomers. 

"Viviane. This is Morgan and Setsuna. They'll be joining the group."

"Hi," Viviane tilted her head and watched them. "You have green hair," she told Setsuna. "Rowena had green hair, but it was lighter, and she went to the Goddess last year," she leaned on Nimue's shoulder. "You have violet eyes. Like Cliton. She's over there." 

"Come. I'll introduce you to your new sisters," Nimue led them to the center of the grove, and eyes turned to them. "Morgan, Setsuna, this is Mazoe, Glitonea, Cliton, Tyronoe, Gliten and Thitis. This, as I just said, is Viviane. Everyone, this is Morgan, and Setsuna." __

_Amazing. Most of them look 'normal'...but Tyronoe has the bronze skin as Morgan and I. Gliten has...what? Aqua? Eyes. Cliton has red hair. Not the coppery red, but red red, like a ruby, and has eyes of violet. How strange! And Viviane! Yes, that is another name I recognize from the legends._

__The girls stood and welcomed them, smiling. Glitonea bubbled excitedly, hugging Morgan so hard she ended up gasping for air. Tyronoe grasped Setsuna's hand gravely. Gliten and Thitis stood to the back, holding hands, shyly waiting for their turn together. Morgan had tears in her eyes by the time the greetings were over. "All right." Nimue announced. "Back to work! Everyone gather around." Nimue took a seat on the ground, Viviane curling up beside her. They sat in a circle. "Goddess, bless our day." 

"So mote it be," the girls responded in unison, Morgan and Setsuna a step behind. 

"All of you are sisters now, sisters in life and spirit. Our group is complete. For you newcomers, I am your teacher and your mother. If you have a difficulty, you see me. All of you have been trained at home in the ways of the secular world. Many of these ways are erroneous. Insanity is not caused by a demon in the head. Babies that die are not changelings left by the fairies. The world, despite what is commonly held, is _not _flat," several sets of eyes shifted to Mazoe, who shrugged. 

"You will learn why here. This is the beginning." Nimue picked up several pebbles before her on the ground, rattling them in her palm. "This is the Goddess," she took a deep breath of air. "This is the Goddess. The Goddess is not good, not evil. She is All things, life and death, the Triple Goddess, Maiden, Mother, Crone. They are separate, but one. She is all of us. All the gods you have been told of, whoever you choose is but one God, and all the goddesses that you serve and pray to...they are but one Goddess, part of one Power that is far beyond all.

"Life from Death, Creation from Destruction and Order from Chaos. Life is not a struggle between 'good' and 'evil'. The gods do not 'fight' for worshipers. Religion is not war. All aspects of the Goddess are part of Her. There can be purity in Light as there is in Dark. If you cannot accept these things, cannot come to terms with them, then the knowledge of Mona is worthless to you." Nimue stood. "If there are any here who change their belief, or cannot hold fast to the wisdom at any time, you are to speak to me at once. It is dangerous to have some knowledge, but not all. It creates strife and misunderstanding. Deception is a deadly art. For the rest of this day, you will remain within the grove. Learn about the earth under your feet. The air you breathe. Watch the creatures that live here. Pay attention, and assemble the knowledge of the work of the gods around us. Consider the words I have spoken. Return to the dining hall for dinner at sunset. I take my leave of you," Nimue bowed to the girls, then left them to wonder.

"All of you," Nimue began, holding a quarterstaff in hand, "will someday go to different places of the island, some even to the mainland. You must learn to defend yourselves. Druids are not commonly warriors, but there are times that a defense is needed," the girls stood in a semi-circle in a clearing. Two large stones had been set several steps from each other, with a large log laid between them, a few handbreadths from the ground. Viviane hung back by the trees, watching. "The quarterstaff is a simple weapon, easily thought of as a walking stick. It has no sharp edges. No metal. People dismiss a staff as a weapon that is...weaker. A quarterstaff cannot kill on the first strike as a sword. It is blunt. But the purpose is a defensive one, to protect, not to kill. It also can help you to take on multiple attackers. It has, unlike a sword, two ends that may strike. Hit with one end, you get a mark. Reverse the direction, and you have a second, without having to pull back your arm. It is done already. The staffs you hold have additional padding to prevent injury. Today we will begin. Many prefer to start slowly, giving drills. I, however, believe it best if we jump right in, then drill. So...Tyronoe! On the log!" 

Nimue stepped up to one side and grasped the weapon. Tyronoe shifted on her feet nervously, then somberly headed up to the log, holding the staff before her, watching Nimue carefully. "Keep your head down." Nimue struck out, and stopped the end from impacting an inch from Tyronoe's chin. "If you're in a fight, an attacker will try to go for the throat. It's an easy target, and will kill on impact. Keep the chin down, lower the likelihood of having the throat cut or your windpipe cut off. Again!" Nimue struck out, Tyronoe trying to back away, lifting the staff before her to stave off Nimue's blow. The two pieces of wood impacted, but Tyronoe was thrown off balance, and slipped from the log, dropping the staff. Nimue nodded, and smiled. "Good. Mazoe! You're up. Tyronoe, work on balance and footing. Pay attention to your footing. Ready, Mazoe?"

She nodded, and within seconds, Mazoe was in the dirt as well. _Ha! This I know! Staff! All those years of training with the droid, and I'll finally, finally get to use it! Ha! Wait til everyone sees this! Nimue favors her right foot. There's a patch of moss on the left side of the log where I will stand. That's part of why so many go crashing to the left side, slipping. The robes won't help, but I suppose you never know where you'll be or what you'll be wearing, ne? There goes Cliton. I wonder how Morgan will do. Viviane's watching in the trees. Always watching. I wonder why she doesn't join in. There goes Glitonea. Oh. Morgan. Hmm...balance good...but she's hitting wildly. Losing balance...down Morgan. My turn!_

__Setsuna leapt up on the log easily, putting a foot forward slightly for better balance, and avoided the moss. She held the staff crosswise across her body, and her back forward slightly, ready to extend her arms. Nimue was tall, and she was still growing. Shortness was a disadvantage most times. Nimue said, "Begin." Setsuna struck out swiftly, with the bottom portion of the staff, intending to sweep Nimue off her feet. Instead, suddenly, the log vanished from under her, and she went sprawling, finding herself with a mouthful of grass. She spluttered, bringing the staff up and rolling over in amazement. Nimue stood frowning at her. "You held onto the staff. That's good, Setsuna. Don't lose your weapon. But don't be cocky, either. You get up here like you know what you're doing...I don't know where you learned the staff, but as of right now, it means absolutely nothing. Thitis! On the log!" Setsuna's face burned, flushing. She climbed up and dusted herself off, brushing the leaves of grass from her robe and taking her place in line again, chin up stiffly. 

Beltane. Samhain. Candlemas. The months rolled by as they practiced, studied, drilled, observed. Messenger brought word to Morgan that Morgawse had again given birth, another boy that Lot had named Gareth. Word came to them from Tintagel that Uther had married Igraine. Morgan was in a sour mood the rest of the week after hearing that, only cheering when they were told they would begin spellwork. 

They sat on a riverbank on a cool, sunny day. Willows grew along the river's borders, trailing branches into the water. Morgan's brows knit as she breathed, "Flower...birth!" From her hands, a flurry of petals and blossoms showered the ground at her feet. She smiled in satisfaction as the petals pooled around her, catching the breeze and blowing around the girls sitting there. "I controlled it!" 

Nimue's smile broadened. "Good, Morgan. Summon the power carefully. Words can help you to concentrate the power. Setsuna, your turn. Choose your words carefully."

"What should I manifest?" 

Glitonea offered a suggestion. "Lunch!" there were giggles from the girls. Setsuna smiled faintly, then held her hands before her as Morgan had, concentrating and closing her eyes. _I do a form of this when I use the Timestaff...is shouldn't be too difficult... .manifest the power of...ah, food, I suppose, instead of the Temporal Flux. Please work. _"Lunch...creation!" 

Nothing. 

Setsuna opened an eye to look at her empty hands. "It didn't work," she said, grimacing. _I do this with the Timestaff! Why can't I make food?_

Nimue leaned forward. "You're trying too hard, Setsuna. Relax. Try again."

"Food...creation!" 

More nothing.

"Nimue!" 

"Setsuna...don't try so hard. Let it flow from you."

"But my words...."

"Words are nothing. Language is arbitrary," at the confused looks by the surrounding girls, Nimue shrugged and explained. "In language, nothing makes this," she picked up a stone, "a pebble. Or this," she picked up a nearby stick, "a piece of branch. Their names could be reversed, and if you grew with the different titles for 'pebble' and 'branch' then this would be a pebble," she held up the stick,"and this a branch," she held up the pebble. "Words are words, and they are not set in stone. It is the meaning behind the words that is important, the meaning that creates the spell. Words help to concentrate, but they themselves are open to change and influence. Think, Setsuna. Think of the meaning behind the words when you conjure, or when you act."

_The meaning behind the words. Hmm...the Temporal Flux...I've been doing that for centuries...maybe, just maybe, it's habit that allows me to summon the power...the belief behind the habit. Well...if words are arbitrary, then the words I say don't matter so much. _Setsuna frowned, then closed her eyes again. _Don't try so hard...._

__"Abracadabra, poof!" she shouted, flinging her hands outward towards the center of their circle. From above them, there was an explosion, and a downpour of honey and wheat cakes fell on their heads. Everyone shrieked, some happily, some in surprise. Some covered their heads, and others, especially Glitonea, went scrambling for the food falling from heaven. 

As they settled down, Nimue commented dryly, "Good, Setsuna. Except next time, consider aim as a part of your spell," she reached up a pulled an oozing honey cake from off of her head. "I think this means we end for the day," her hair ran with the sticky goop. "You're dismissed." 

Summer came, summer went. Samhain, Lammas, Autumn Equinox, Candlemas. More studying, more training, more drilling, never ending. The eight novices studied together, ate together, trained together, and slowly became, as Nimue had first said, sisters. More time passed. Another year. Again Beltane, Samhain, Candlemas. They learned scrying, pendulum work. Prayers for health, spells for healing. Morgan often commented to Setsuna in privacy, of how they were not treated like freaks here, in Mona. Morgan continued to excel in her studies, rapidly absorbing the information, and was able to explain it back. Setsuna did well also, but Morgan slowly began to emerge as the leader of the group, often the source that helped anyone who did not understand the day's lesson. After the initial mortifying experience on the log, Setsuna had flung herself into relearning everything about the staff, begging extra lessons from other teachers than Nimue if she were unavailable. Viviane eventually began to join another group of acolytes of her own age. 

When Beltane came that year, the girls were told they would be able to participate in the festivities. Setsuna worried. The others were extraordinarily excited, for Beltane was of the few occasions that the boys from the island would be mingling in the crowds. Glitonea was ecstatic, practically leaping on Beltane's eve, when one of the older girls in another group told her an interesting secret about Viviane. Her father, it was said, was none other than Taliesin! Glitonea's rumormongering was infamous, but when confronted, Nimue did not deny it. "Born of a Beltane rite. It is no secret, nor a thing to be ashamed of. As you will see," the girls knew what Beltane was, but had been forbidden to participate past sunset, Nimue claiming they were too young as yet. Apparently, sixteen, some seventeen, was considered 'old enough.' 

"Lots of girls are married at fifteen!" Glitonea shouted, clapping her hands. "My sister was betrothed at fourteen, and married only three weeks after fifteen!"

Morgan rolled her eyes. "And my sister at seventeen, with a child at eighteen. Glitonea, sit down. We have studying to do. There's spellwork to finish."

"How can you study at a time like this? We'll be women within the week!" Setsuna watched them quietly, then turned from the group and headed outside. 

Beltane. 

The rebirth of the fields. The Goddess bringing life again to the soil. A Maypole was erected in the forest, and the men from the islands' opposite side came to participate in the rituals. Food was cooked and served, roast venison, sweetmeats, pies, roasts. The air was fragrant with the smells, and of incense burning slowly in some huts, wafting into the air. It was night when the true rites of spring would begin. _It is sacred, holy. I understand that. Respect that. It is life, and brings life. It is the Earth. But...I cannot allow this on myself. To spend the night with a boy...man...I have not met, whose name I do not know...I cannot. Some say that purity is of the body. I wonder at that. Is there not purity of the mind? Of the soul? We're told it avoids embarrassment later...the young to learn with each other. I wonder if I will ever wed. What kind of a man would brave the halls of time? Beltane.The others have been raised to accept this as natural. Normal. I cannot. Not like this. I should at least meet such a man...._

The fire had danced high as the circle had formed, and chanting began low and soft and deep. The words resonated, whispered, echoed. Life from death. As the figures around the fire swayed and chaunted, Setsuna broke away, catching Morgan's eye. She was surprised, then nodded, gravely, once, and returned her gaze to the blaze before her.__

__

__Setsuna returned to the mound of her home, sitting on the leafy knoll that was its roof. The sun set, and the chaunts from below her began, rising in cadence, then falling, rolling in sound. She stretched out her legs and arms, looking up to the silvery round orb of the moon in the sky. _It looks like a pregnant woman's belly. _Stars glittered above her, winking. _I wish I could see Pluto. Too far away. Even their telescopes on the monolith are not strong enough to see home. Home. Is Pluto my home, or is Mona? There's Mercury. Princess Ami, when will you be reborn? Jupiter. The greatest planet in the system. And Mars. Princess Rei, I wonder if you can scry in a bowl of water as well as in a fire...if not, maybe, someday, when you are born again, I can teach you...and Venus, preparing to set. All so lovely. Haruka. Michiru....and the Destroyer of Saturn. When will your turn on the Wheel come again? Always spinning, ever turning like a spiral galaxy...even now, as Beltane is consecrated anew. Fires are beginning to be lit on the hillsides...._

"Setsuna?" a girl's voice asked. 

"Viviane? What are you doing up? It's late."

"I can't sleep." Viviane settled down beside her. "Why aren't you with the others?"

"I have...reasons not to. Viviane, go to bed."

"I said I'm not sleepy." Viviane set her face in stone, looking out over the hillside. She tucked her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. "What's it like, off Mona?"

Setsuna watched her, her profile. "It is big." 

Viviane laughed. "Big. How big? Big as all the sky?"

"Bigger. All the sky in all the times to have existed. And that will exist."

"You sound as if you know."

"What I know isn't important, now." 

"I think it is."

"Viviane, you're too young to sound like an old druidess."

"So are you." 

The girls chuckled. "I'm older than you."

"Older than mother, too," Setsuna turned to her calmly and said, 

"I don't know what you mean," but Viviane only smiled and held a finger to her lips. "Don't worry, I won't tell. Are you of Avalon?"

"I go from Elfland to Avalon, now?"

Viviane shrugged, leaning over her knees. "There's little difference. No one knows where either is. Elfland is supposed to have a border of some sort...Avalon... Avalon exists everywhere. No one knows how to get there. Some say that it is hidden in the mists. Between one time and another, unreachable by mortals. Near...far...both and neither."

"You've paid attention in class." 

"Maybe. Sometimes...I don't know," her brow wrinkled as she looked out over the hills to the land beyond, where Camelot lay. "There's fewer fires this year than last."

Setsuna followed her gaze. "You're right."

"Mother says it's the Christians. They deny the Goddess, or make Her a demoness." Setsuna remained silent. "They'll take over, won't they? Take all of Britain? No more Beltane, or Samhain. They will conquer Britain, won't they?"

Setsuna tried to distract her by lightening the mood. _I'm afraid to tell her. I can't tell anyone the future. But she Sees it. She speaks as though she has Seen it. _"Conquer? You sound like it's an army of old men come to lay siege to Mona." 

"It is. The old ways...they're dying. Sometimes, Setsuna, I sense such great things of the future...but...it's like a rose blooming. Small at first, then blossoming, the petals extending...then they overreach themselves, and wilt, dying in their own beauty. I've lived my whole life on Mona. I've never been off it. I like quiet, Setsuna. But...I want to see Britain, before the Britain I have been told about is gone. If the Christians conquer Britain, then what becomes of Mona? One of their churches? And the sacred springs, the gods, the holy groves?"

"Viviane. It is in the future. For now...learn all you can. Learn of Beltane when you're older. Of the spirits that walk on Samhain. The future comes on its own terms. Let be. Go. It's late. I'm going to bed." Setsuna stood, and a moment later, so did Viviane. 

"Good night, Setsuna."

"Good night, Viviane."

Setsuna turned to descend into into the dwelling. _I'll light a Goddess candle, and maybe read a bit. Then.… _From the side of her, a crackle of footfall came. Setsuna sighed. "Viviane, go to bed. It's late." A figure too large for Viviane came stumbling from the shadows cast by the trees. _Who...?_

The young man stuttered nervously. "Uh...." Setsuna tilted her head to the side, folding her arms and waiting. "Setsuna?" he asked. 

"Yes?" 

He stumbled forward a few more steps coming up the crest of the hill. "I'm Gwion," he thrust a bouquet of flowers at her. She stepped back a pace, eying him carefully. _Clumsy...and yet...blonde hair, short. Brown eyes, large, with wide lips...tall and slender. Long hands...bard's hands. Graceful hands. Flowers...?_ "Asphodels?" she reached forward and took the bouquet, brushing her fingers across the modest petals. "Where did you get these?" 

"I made them. Well, I created them," he blushed furiously, shifting from foot to foot. 

"Why these?"

He paled and stuttered, looking at the ground. "I thought...I thought you'd like them. I know they're not roses, but...asphodels...I thought they would be your favorite." _And so they are...asphodels. In the myths of Hellas, the palace of Hades and Persephone is in the Fields of Asphodels. Hades. Pluto. _"Why are you here?"

"What?" Setsuna looked up, surprised. 

"Well, everyone starts at the fire, then leaves. I almost missed you." 

Setsuna's eyes widened, and she held the flowers tighter. "You were looking for me?" 

"Yes. I..." he blushed even darker. "Were you meeting someone? I didn't want to...." he trailed off, then looked at her evenly. "No...you're alone. I'm glad. I thought maybe you had someone." 

_He looked for me away from the fire, specifically? There are plenty of women there. Why me? _"You searched for me? Why?" 

"Last year," he began promptly, looking in her eyes. "Last year, I saw you at the Beltane festival. You and your friends, you were at the river, helping with the cooking. I wasn't allowed to participate last year. I found out who you were. I wanted to meet you then, but..." he shrugged sheepishly. "I wanted to know who you were. Before Beltane." 

_Wanted to know who I was...before the rites are celebrated. Asphodels. He is handsome, and kind enough to bring me these asphodels. That was unnecessary. But...I have met him just now! Still...yet...what of the consequences of such an action? I can't...can I? The hands of a bard...and such dark eyes...._

Setsuna brought up the flowers, burying her nose in them, breathing in the heady scent and closing her eyes as she breathed out again. She opened her eyes slowly, watching Gwion. Then she gave him a sad sort of smile. 

Seven more years passed.

Setsuna and the other girls grew into women, and they prepared themselves for their final trial. That night, on the full moon, they would undergo a final test of magick and ritual. Hymns were chaunted. Potions of herbs were drunk. Night finally came. Stars glinted through the wispy purple clouds, and Selene's round face shone softly on the eight women in the clearing as they waited. It was not a ritual for the group, not something to be conquered together. The visions that would be seen here were for them and them alone. The were only told they would be different for each. Wind combed the trees, swaying them. They dispersed into the night, searching the unfamiliar portion of the island of Mona. Never had they been permitted here before. All parts of the island had been open to them, save this. The soft calls of birds stilled here, and the insects and frogs in the pond lay quietly, reverent in the silence. Untold and unordered, they broke apart from their circle, each drifting into a direction of their own, some near each other, others far apart. 

Setsuna dreamily drifted toward the stilled pond, watching the shimmering eternal stars above. _They're clearer from Pluto. But they're still pretty here. And here I see the moon._She knelt beside the pool, and was faintly aware of a figure pass behind her, walking of her own accord into the darkness. Blooming along the shore were lilies on pads. Ripples on the water connected with strands of starlight, reaching up into heaven's vault. _The moon is a disc, not a cradle tonight. Serene. Peaceful._It reflected on the water, laying in the center, a coin of silvery color. Mist began to spin around the pool, slowly winding around the edges, surrounding Setsuna's kneeling figure. Shadows of Britain cast before her in the mirror of water. Another face took shape in the water, with garnet eyes and black hair glinting emerald. The figure spoke to her, smiling in the water's quivering reflection._ Look to the water, Setsuna, Sailor Pluto._

__"Who are you?" Setsuna asked the visage in the water, knowing the answer even as she whispered the question.__

_I am you. I am the you that is hidden. Look to the water, Setsuna. Look at the moon, who you serve. Open your eyes and see the beauty of the Moon. Can you see? All time is one time. You walk down hallways filled with locked doors. You carry the key to each. Behind each door is a time, a place, filled with people and places, their lives and their loves. They exist at one time, each in accordance with each other. If that harmony is to be broken, then Chaos will break free from its eternal banishment. Some say all things repeat themselves, a Wheel on which time turns. Others say that it is a line, with a beginning, and someday an end. Whatsoever brings that end, or turns that Wheel is the power that you are to protect. Time itself is to be protected, for it is far more fragile than it seems. Time and space exist in all times and places. Without time to power energy, to permit change and growth, nothing will come from nothing. What can be created if there is no moment of time for it to exist in? And without creation, what good is destruction? Time is patience. Time is eternal. Use your power to protect time. Ensure its safety. This is your power, Setsuna Meioh, Guardian of Time. Now, go. Go and see the world in your new light. Time has passed longer for you than the others. Let the sign of Pluto be beheld by the world for its first time._

The glimmering figure smiled before her, and Setsuna reached out to the water to touch. Her hand met the water, and the reflection blurred, vanishing into the mist that brought it. Quietly, Setsuna stood, and the mist gathered about her, cloaking her in the dawn, her aural red gleaming through the wisps of white mist. Rays of light, pink and sunny were dawning in the east as she returned to the grove, her strange cloak shrouding her shoulders. Nimue waited for her in the oaks, stepping forward as she approached. Two nights had passed since they had gone into the wood, some emerging quickly, others later. Setsuna was the last to remain. First, Nimue was uncertain if she had been successful or not, as she stepped from between the columns of the trees. No blue moon shaped mark graced her brows. Instead, a softly glowing red letter lingered there, the shape of a P, tailed at the bottom. Nimue had never seen such a thing before, and no one had ever written of it in the annals of history. But then, no one came shining with the grace of the Goddess as Setsuna did now, cloaked in the mists of time. 

"Morgan?" Setsuna tapped on the door to the sleeping chambers. Morgan sat still on the edge of her bed, a pile of clothing set beside her. "Morgan? What are all these clothes out for?" Setsuna walked over smiling, and picked up the top hose. Morgan's hand snapped out and slapped her hand away, making her drop the clothing. Bewildered, Setsuna asked, "Morgan?"

"You were there, Setsuna, in my vision," her words were cold. Morgan looked at Setsuna in the eyes, watching her like a viper, fire flickering in her eyes. "You were Sailor Pluto."

Setsuna backed up a step, staring back at Morgan in confusion. "Morgan, what does that have to do with...?"

"Everything!" Morgan spat. "The night that bastard Uther came to Tintagel! You interfered. It was never Taliesin. It was you. You convinced him that Uther should come and rape my mother." Morgan's voice was low, dangerous. The two women faced off on either side of the bed. Setsuna began to collect herself.

"What were you shown in your vision, Morgan?" 

She laughed harshly. "I just told you. You came to Taliesin. Told him that he should send Uther to my mother. You knew, Setsuna. You let Uther come and rape my mother. You let him go off the next day and murder my father. Why, Setsuna? Why?"

_Forgive me, Morgan. Foreknowledge. If that harmony is to be broken, then Chaos will break free from its eternal banishment. I knew this must happen someday, that the vision of yesternight be tested. But why Morgan? Why so soon?_

__"I cannot say."

"You cannot say. Cannot, or will not, Setsuna? You let all this happen. You knew that I hated Uther. Why didn't you tell me? I had to discover this in a vision. A vision! About my...best friend," she let the last two words drip scathingly off her tongue. "I couldn't believe it. I faced it. That is why I bear the mark of the Goddess. I faced my fear. You don't even carry a sign. No one would believe you succeeded if Nimue had not seen that bizarre symbol on your forehead. A P with a tail! What does that symbolize? Pluto? God of darkness and death. You let Uther kill my father. And now..." she raised a finger to the air, voice becoming resonant in the small room. "May Uther die a horrible death in battle, with his tongue scalded black and his eyes gouged from his sockets. Let you live for an eternity with the knowledge that I, Morgan le Fey, hate you!" 

The curse had radiated outward from her hand, and the druids had shuddered across the Isle of Mona. Morgan returned to Tintagel. To Igraine. Arthur had left the season before, coming to Camelot where his father lived and worked through most of the year. Igraine had held Tintagel too long to leave it. She held it well, protected it, and Uther trusted it to her keeping. It would be many years before Setsuna saw Morgan again. 


	4. Time, Which Reveals Fate

Mists of Time

Part _2__Time, Which Reveals Fate_

_Fear no more the heat o'th' sun,_

_Nor the furious winter's rages._

_Thou thy worldly task hast done,_

_Home art gone and ta'en thy wages. _

_Golden lads and girls all must,_

_As chimney-sweepers, come to dust._

_Fear no more the frown o'th' great,_

_Thou art past the tyrant's stroke._

_Care no more to clothe and eat,_

_To thee the reed is as the oak._

_The sceptre, learning, physic, must_

_All follow this and come to dust._

_Fear no more the lightning flash,_

_Nor th'all-dreaded thunder-stone._

_Fear not slander, censure rash._

_Thou hast finished joy and moan._

_All lovers young, all lovers must_

_Consign to thee and come to dust._

__

__-William Shakespeare

from _Cymbeline, King of Britain_ IV.259-76

Setsuna pressed the coltsfoot brew to the old woman's lips. She drank, and smiled up at the two faces that met hers. "There," the man said. "That should take care of your cough," he helped her up from her chair. 

"Thank you, Brother."

"You're welcome. Go with God," the woman smiled and stood, smoothing her skirts and heading to the door. 

"You're good with these people, Gaius," Setsuna told him, smiling at the robed monk. He chuckled in return. 

"Ah, lady druidess, but without your skill in medicine, old Cady would still be hacking her lungs up when the weather changes."

"Maybe," Setsuna placed her herbs back into the leather bag she carried. They stood inside Gaius' small hut, not a far walk from the village nearby. He had come here, a Christian monk, hoping to convert people to his faith. He had succeeded in many ways, although at times he still discovered people praying to the Goddess. Such belief is often difficult to uproot, and they welcomed Setsuna and her abilities happily. "Care to escort a druidess to the local pub for a mug of wine, Gaius?" 

"A young one such as yourself? Certainly," he offered her an arm dramatically, and Setsuna accepted it, grinning. Gaius was middle aged now, no longer the young man he was from Constantinople. His brown hair had begun to take the shade of iron at his temples, and laughter lines were deepening around his eyes. If not for the shaved pate on his head, he would still have had all his hair. 

"I'm far older than I look, Gaius." _Not a day older than when I became ban-draoi. Ten years, and I have not aged a day. I wonder what the others would say to such a thing. I wonder...._

"Setsuna? Are you well? You went pale there for a moment." 

"Fine. Come. I'm thirsty." The two made a odd pair, strolling easily down the path. Dark was only now beginning to fall, the setting sun in the west staining the sky red. The image of a Christian and druidess, arm and arm, chatting easily was a rare one in these days. The local pub was called "_The Mystic's Dream_" and the image of head in the clouds decorated the post, a clump of ivy snaking around it. They broke apart as they entered and ordered watered wine from the barmaid, settling themselves by the fireplace. Men from the fields began trickle in as the work day completed, coming for a pint of mead before sleep and repeating the process of farming the next day, laughing and calling to each other as they came. Ale and mead flowed around the tables, and Setsuna and Gaius were both left to themselves in their corner, watching the men. 

"...will convince you!" Gaius joked, half serious, holding a finger up at Setsuna. 

"I am not going to become a nun, Gaius, no matter what you say of your Holy Virgin."

"Ah, Setsuna. A shame!" he broke apart a crust of bread the barmaid had brought, smearing it with cheese, then stuffing it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "You would be a Abbess, surely," his eyes twinkled. "Or is it the clothes? Black too dark?"

Setsuna nearly choked on the wine she was sipping. "Gaius, I wore black robes for all my training years! Now I wear blue. Day in and day out. I am so tired of wearing them. Someday, I will make the most beautiful clothes anyone has ever seen." 

"I don't doubt it," Gaius lifted his glass to her slightly. "I suppose the robes of a monk are dull as well." He picked at a fold of his coarse brown robe. "To your career as a tailor." 

Setsuna smiled somberly and lifted her mug in return. "To your convincing me to be a nun," they drank and turned their gazes to the room once more. Several men began a raunchy song, singing to the barmaid, who laughed and flirted back. A man strode into the bar, shouting for a drink. The reaction was instantaneous. 

"Kade!" the barmaid shrieked, dropping her tray and running to the man, who swung her around laughing, kissing her on the cheek. 

"And how are you, cousin Hulda? Still have the men in town chasing after you? I see you do!" louder laugher accompanied this, and the newcomer was surrounded by by men. He winced once, when one slapped him hard on the arm. 

"What, come back from the army and you can't even take a hit? C'mon! They make you into a prissy girl there?" Kade looked at him a moment so somberly that the action around him stilled. Then he rolled up his sleeve to show a heavy field dressing wound up his arm, flecks of blood showing through. Murmurs rippled through the room. "Hey, priestess! Brother Gaius! Could you-?" he was cut off by Setsuna, who pushed the man brusquely aside, pulling her bag out. 

"Who bandaged this?" 

"Field surgeon. Who're you? Brother Gaius? Who's this?"

Gaius answered him as Setsuna bent to work, unwinding the gauzy material. "This is Setsuna. From Mona. She came here a few weeks after you left for the army last year, Kade. She'll clean you up."

"Get me some wine, and some cloth, for a fresh dressing," Setsuna ordered Hulda. Quickly, she scurried to fetch it. 

"I'm not bleeding to death," he tried to brush Setsuna away, but she grabbed his arm and held him still. 

"The dressing is good, but nothing was placed on the wound to cleanse it. Hold still. This will sting," she dabbed a napkin into the pitcher that Hulda had brought, then wiped it over Kade's arm. He grit his teeth, but remained silent. "Blade cut. Broadsword? Who's been fighting and where?"

"Badon. To the south, two days. The Pendragon standard. Some Jutes joined with some Angles and Saxons. Cut in from Ireland, crossed through inland. We moved to stop them." 

Gaius crossed himself feverently. "And the King?"

"Dead." 

Silence. The room hung heavily, staring at Kade. "Dead?" Gaius whispered hoarsely. Kade nodded once, hanging his head. Setsuna tied the wrapping tightly, and stood, backing away. _Badon. And so it begins...._

"We laid siege to the town they took. Had them trapped in a bottleneck. They had to break out, or starve to death. Uther led the counter, with his wife's son with him. I was under Uther's second captain, and I saw it. The Saxon commander...hell. Man was a giant! Stood seven feet tall and with the muscles of a bear! Threw a spear! Straight through the fighting! Pierced Uther's chest. I saw him fall. Arthur...good God, I've never seen a thing like it." Kade crossed himself. "He has this dog, Arthur does. Cabal. He and that dog...somehow, they hacked their way through the line. Arthur must have killed fifty men to do it! He met the commander in the line. Beheaded him. One stroke. Sweet Jesu, I thought he'd be killed. Two men, followed him. Lot's sons, Gawain and Beauhands...ah, Gareth, I mean. Beauhands is Arthur's standard bearer. They waded through, and Ector and Kay fell in behind. Pulled Arthur out. It was the pit of Hell in there. Arthur though, rallied Uther's men and led a charge. I was in the right flank, and we crashed through the Angle line. Bloody Hell it was. The Saxon pigs running like the Cwn Annwn on their arses! Ah, not that the Hounds of Annwn are real, Brother," Kade said apologetically to Gaius, who indulgently nodded and urged him to continue. "Well, we took Badon back, sending those bastards running to their mothers!" he balled a fist. Hulda provided him with a mug of ale, and he quaffed it, polishing it in a single gulp. "Ah. Thanks. Needed that. Strange thing though about Uther. They found the body. His eyes were poked out and his tounge...it was black, hanging out. That's what I was told, anyway."

_And so, Morgan, you have succeeded in the first part of your curse...._

Gaius cleared his throat and asked, "Who holds Camelot?" 

Kade shook his head. "I don't know. Arthur is marching his army to Camelot. They were camping in Londinium for supplies and rest," he reached for another mug of mead, and began to down it. 

"Brave man!" one of the men shouted, and was chorused by several others, who surrounded Kade. 

"Setsuna," Gaius took her arm and led her to the front of the tavern, away from the men inside. "If no one holds Camelot, then...."

Setsuna placed a consoling hand on his arm. "I wouldn't worry, Gaius. The Sword in the Stone will decide the next in line for the throne."

"The what?" Gaius was confused. "Sword in the Stone? Is that on Mona?"

Setsuna stared, beginning to feel her stomach drop. "You have never heard of the Sword in the Stone?" _No...the Sword. Excalibur! It exists! It must! It is one factor of the legend that is consistent! There IS a Sword!_Gaius was only watching her curiously. "You've never heard of it? Gaius, are you completely sure? Never? Not even once? You're not from Britain...could you have missed it?"

Gaius shook his head sadly. "I came from Constantinople, Setsuna, but I have lived here over fifteen years now. I would have heard of such a strange thing if it existed." 

_Not again. I have lived ten years since Mona, traveling peacefully, healing and teaching words, math, showing stars to people with no knowledge. I began this, ensuring Arthur's birth. Am I forced to ensure his safety as well? That he become High King? Is it my duty to protect him here? Even from afar? If the petty kings begin to squabble over the crown Uther held, then Britain will be even more vulnerable to invasion. Badon. How many died? What price in blood for a battle over British soil? I will not let it! I was told I may interfere... I have already done so with Arthur's mere birth! Imagine a man such as Lot of Lothian on the throne! Or Mark of Cornwall! Both defied Uther regularly! Mark is even said to have murdered Tristan, who he himself sent to fetch Iseult from Ireland's shores. Arthur. Merlin is still with him, surely. He would not leave Arthur's side. I told him long ago, but surely he has discovered the boy's importance on his own by now. I cannot speak of the future to others. Foreknowledge is dangerous. But, if I may interfere...I must find that Sword!_

"Gaius. Promise me something." 

Startled by Setsuna's sudden vehemenence, Gaius agreed, crossing himself. "On the Word of the Lord. Setsuna, what is it?"

"Tell no one of what I have said to you of the Sword in the Stone. It is important, Gaius. Breathe no word of it. Swear?"

"Swear." 

"Thank you, Gaius. You're a good man. Go with the Goddess."

"And you with the Lord. You're leaving now?"

"Yes. I have to get to Londinium. Immediately. Two days to the south and east. Good bye, Gaius. Oh, Gaius. Those books of mine, at my home? Take care of them for me." Setsuna waved, leaving Gaius staring, and set off to her small cottage in the woods. She had lived there almost a year, taking the battered house a widow who had died recently had lived in. She had fixed it up, cleaned it, and filled it with books and scrolls. She hurried, and gathered up her saddlebags, putting in a change of clothes and some food she kept in the house. _I must hurry. Londinium. They're already there. Who knows how long they'll remain? Two days. Assuming I can even find Excalibur. _She slung the bags over Kore's back. Kore pranced, realizing she was to be on a journey again, not merely a trot through the village. Kore, too, had stopped aging after Setsuna had left Mona, remaining in her prime. _All right, old friend. I know you're eager. To Londinium!_

Kore's hooves churned clods of dirt behind them as they flew over the fields. _This must be what it is to fly!_Wind carried Setsuna's hair back in a stream of green and black as she leaned forward, midnight blue robes rippling around her. _There! At last! And the camps of armies are at the foot of the city!_She reigned the black mare in, stopping on a cliff edge. The scent of rain hung heavy in the air, and she had almost been forced to stop in a town several miles back the day before in the thunderstorm. Grey clouds still swirled overhead, and puddles of water settled in the ground around them. Boulders from some long ago cataclysm sloped down the hill, and she had Kore pick her way around. _The Sword in the Stone. I must find it. _Setsuna swung from Kore's back, searching for a larger puddle. She found one, and knelt beside it, concentrating carefully. She held a hand over the water. _Mist. I must see the Sword. Show me the Sword that Arthur will wield!_Vapor rose from the puddle, swirling around Setsuna's hand. The mist coalesced, frothing, then drew back to the edges, revealing the image of a sword, buried hilt deep in a crystal spire. The scene drew closer. The sword's hilt was a crescent, and it shone dimly with light. _The Sword...no. No. It cannot be...show me more! Where is the Sword?_The image in the pool widened, to show the rubble of what was once a prayer room, a single spire jutting out of the floor in its center, Excalibur rising from a crack in the smooth crystal casing. The tower was crumbling, damaged through war and time, but Setsuna recognized it. _It is the Sword of the Moon! Excalibur! No! It can't be!_

__Setsuna broke away from the puddle and image reflected there. She backed up, sitting on a nearby stone. Kore came to her and pushed her gently with her nose. "Kore," she scratched the horse's ear. _I must go to the Moon. I began this back at Tintagel all those years ago, ensuring his birth. Now, I will complete what I started. Scrying does not lie. No one else knows of the Moon Sword. No one on Earth alive, at least. I will bring the Moon Sword...Excalibur...here. It is my mission now, to protect Arthur and what he stands for. I am the Lady of the Lake._Setsuna stood. "Wait here, Kore," the horse whickered, and tossed her head. _Lets see if I can still do this._

__"Pluto Planet Power! Make-up!"Her aural light burst around her as she completed the henshin. The Timestaff formed in her hand, and she stepped down, carrying it delicately. Her fuku had altered somewhat since her last time, when she had appeared to Taliesin at the Lake. Her boots now showed high heels, and her earrings were shaped as arrowheads. She looked down at herself. "I would have expected heels to be uncomfortable," she rocked back and forth, then shrugged. "Well, Kore?" the horse snorted and whinnied. "Glad you approve. Now. Let's hope I can get to the Moon," she closed her eyes and concentrated on the Timestaff. _To the Moon.... _Her hair floated up around her, and she faded in a wash of crimson light.

The stars were clearer there, without the blanket of atmosphere to obscure them. The Moon. Silent and empty, once home to a thriving civilization long lost. The form of Sailor Pluto coalesced before the ruins of the Silver Millennium, the red mist swirling and solidifying around her, and she opened her eyes, looking at her surroundings. _The Earth. Strange...it is always the Moon that is thought of as a crescent. Here, it is the Earth that appears in a curve. _The earthrise was on the horizon, glowing blue and green and grey, the ocean water sparkling smoothly. _Ah. Britain. It is covered by clouds. The storm. I would have loved to have seen it from here. Now. Thunder and lightning in the clouds. Beautiful._Sailor Pluto tore her eyes from the Earth and returned to the halls of the palace, her heels striking softly on the crumbling marble. Columns rose above her, fell around her. She walked through, remembering the way she had taken so many centuries ago. She stopped at the entrance way of the Prayer Room, her hand touching the pillar beside her lightly. _No one but the Queen may enter. Queen Serenity. Please help me. Is this right? _Sailor Pluto held the Timestaff in her hands, praying silently as the silvery moondust blew across the marble floor. 

Before the Prayer Tower, a figure began to take shape, a figure of moonlight and shadow, illusory but strong, rising from the floor and standing. She remained tiny, her hair moonlit white and her dress of moondust. A crescent graced her brows, and she smiled at the somberly praying form of Sailor Pluto. "Setsuna...." the illusion whispered, and in the velvet quiet of the Moon, the words carried to her ears. Pluto looked up at her name to see the shadowy shape of Queen Serenity before her. 

"Queen?" she knelt, lowering her eyes respectfully.

Warmly, the Queen spread her arms. "Come closer, Setsuna. You have grown so." Pluto obeyed, falling to her knees to be closer to eye level with the holographic woman. "Yes...you look like both your parents. You have done well, Setsuna, Sailor Pluto. I see that you have come on a mission...for the Moon Sword?" 

"Yes, my Queen. There are people who need the strength of the Silver Millennium again." 

The moonlit figure shivered, her image blurring a moment before she continued. "The Sword is meant to protect the Princess, who in turn protects the Earth. The Sword may be wielded by the pure of heart, and the generous of spirit. The Sword belongs to those who protect the Princess, Sailor Pluto, but it is meant to defend the people from harm. The world you stand on is on the brink of the Dark Ages, on which great knowledge will be lost, of our time, of knowledge gained by the Earth's scribes. By taking the Sword, you hold off that Darkness for some small time. It shall be inevitable. But the Wheel of Time is turning already. Guard the one who will protect the land, Setsuna, as you have. Take the legendary Sword, and see it to its owner. It will not have its full power in this time, for it is not in the hands of my daughter's guardians, but it will remain unequaled in strength. Return the Sword to its home as its mission is fulfilled. It shall wait for my daughter. Setsuna. Princess of Pluto. Protect the people as you best know...." the illusion began to fade. "I cannot remain...my energy must be saved. Farewell, Setsuna...." Queen Serenity's image was gone in a swirl of moondust. 

"Queen..." Pluto touched the spot on which she had stood. "Farewell," she waited there a moment, the breathed deeply, sighing with determination. She looked up to the spire that the Sword was encased in. "Excalibur," Setsuna stood, moving quietly to the spire. A tiny series of words had been written onto the Sword's hilt. Setsuna mumbled them softly to herself, running a hand over the pommel of the Sword. 

"When this sword shows its light...The Silver Imperium Crystal follows the heart of she who would become queen. Take the completed crystal, and release the Great Power of the Moon. Give service to the Moon's Holy Tower, and once more bring peace to our kingdom...." 

_Words meant for the future. For Serenity's daughter. This is the method of sealing for a creature that nearly destroyed us. Let it remain for the future._Sailor Pluto placed a hand on the hilt, and pulled. The Sword slid slowly from its crystal sheath, and cracks appeared in the crystal from the motion. The crystal shattered in some spots, breaking off as the Sword came free, humming slightly at the vibration of its release. _So you are the Singing Sword.…_ Pluto smiled slightly, whispering softly, "Thank you, Queen Serenity," then she left the room, returning to the barren walkways outside. _Someday this will come again. I wait to see how. But until those days, I will worry myself with these. Return me to the Earth. To the field of stone over Londinium.... _The crimson mist swirled up around her again, circling her and the two relics she held, Timestaff and Sword. 

A bitter wind blew as she returned to the stony ground of the planet, and a smattering of rain kissed the rocks around her. _Here is the place. Over Londinium, in a quarry of stones. _The Moon was hidden from view by the grey stormclouds. "Let a stone hold the Singing Sword," she chose a large one, and struck the Sword into its top. _Made of stuff far harder than any diamond. _It sank into its new scabbard, up to the hilt, covering the inscribed words on the base of the blade. Thunder rumbled loudly, roaring through the skies as several fingers of lightning touched the Earth around her, white hot. She leapt back as one of the streaks hit the pommel of the Sword, and blew apart the top of the surrounding rock, melting in a puddle the stone at its base. Kore reared, screaming wildly, and Pluto grabbed at her halter to calm and reassure her. The lightning danced around the blade, then centered on it, the different ribbons of light focusing on the blade. There was a crackle as steam rose from around the Sword, and the bolts withdrew, returning to the clouds overhead. Vapor hovered around the Sword in the Stone, and rain began to beat more steadily around them. Pluto stepped forward to see what had happened to the blade. Where the method of sealing had been printed in silver, a new script of gold was stamped. Sailor Pluto read the new words aloud. 

"Who so pulleth out this Sword from this Stone shall be rightwise King, borne of all England." 

_Simple. Elegant. A single line that promises so much to the owner. The space around its base has melted from the lightning strike. The rain will help with that, to cool it. Now...I must ensure that the legend of the Sword is formed. To go straight to Merlin would help, yes, but...the people must believe in it, not only the nobles. What good is a people if they hate you? The camps. I will go into Londinium, disguised, and see that rumors are whispered._

__"Pluto Power! Morph me into an old woman!" her fuku lengthened, but remained black, a heavy hood overtaking her head. Her long green black hair turned white, but her bronze skin and garnet eyes remained, though she became wrinkled and stooped. Kore tossed her head, fidgeting, as she took on the appearance of an old nag. Her halter became coarser in appearance, a poorly woven rawhide braid for a bridle. Her back bowed from age, hips jutting out. She hobbled over to Setsuna, who was surprised to hear her voice come out harsh and scratchy. "We make a pair, don't we Kore? Come on. Let's get our old bones out of the rain." They tottered down the slope, heading for the lit town of Londinium. 

Water slanted down from the skies as Setsuna tied Kore to a post outside the door of a tavern. There she was out of the wind and rain. Air tugged at her clothing, whipping it around her body as she turned inside the place. It had been easy to find a tavern with soldiers, so many encamped around the city's skirts. This place sat at the bank of the Thames, and the smell of fish mingled with sweat and sour beer. Wind slammed the sign above the door against the wooden walls, and Setsuna, bent, entered quietly. Heat radiated out from the packed bodies and roaring fireplace. It was late, and most of the men were already deep in their cups. Several men at the first table were pounding fists against the table repeatedly, cheering on a man standing, who was gulping down a massive tankard of mead. He finished with a flourish, and the men erupted into applause and howls, ordering another round. Setsuna took a place at the bar, the last chair on the end, close to the fire to dry her dampened clothing. The bartender came to her, a grumpy looking man with a grizzled beard. "We don't let nobody jus' sit ere. Ye ain't order'n nuthin, best be movin along, woman," he swiped the bar before her with a cloth, scattering crumbs. Setsuna kept her eyes lowered, but quietly reached into a pocket and withdrew a darkened gold coin. The man's eyes bulged in their sockets as she placed it on the table. "Sweet Lady! Forgive me, old mother! What can I do for ye?" he stumbled over himself to get her drink when she said simply,

"Honey wine. Then let me be." 

The drink appeared before her, and the man fidgeted a moment, then collected the coin slowly. When she did not grab it back, he tucked it into a pocket and hurried to the back room to store it safely. Such money was not often flung around. Setsuna waited patiently for her moment, listening to the men shout and boast of their battle prowess. She sipped quietly, biding her time. The glass had been half emptied when she heard two men in the corner table. One was heavily drunk, shouting about the upcoming glory of Camelot. 

"Arthur will be king o' all Britain, I tell ye, Malin!" he quaffed another gulp of beer, smacking Malin on the back as he leaned forward, shouting. "Got us a good man! Scaffered hundreds 'o men he did! Good King I tell ye! Glory of the gods be he!" 

"Landon, ye're drunk as an ass. Arthur ne'er be king of all Britain. He's born bastard." 

"Bastard the king! Malin! Be you speakin' gainst the king? I'll rip your throat out your arse-!"

"If that were e'en possible Landon, I doubt it'd be. I'm Arthur's man, no questioning that!" Malin placed his hand over his heart and bowed slightly from his seat. "Fought at Badon I did, in the regiments! As ev'ry man ere!" Several men who heard the exchange sent up a cheer at that announcement. "All us saw what the dux bellorum did! One stroke," Malin swiped his hand across his neck. "No more bastard Saxon!" More cheers greeted that. "Aye, Saxons driven back, but Arthur's got no blood right to the throne." Malin shook his head sadly and buried his face in a pot of ale. 

"If he be Uther's he does! Ye said it yerself!" Landon pulled the bowl from Malin's mouth. Malin pushed him back, wiping his lips with his shirt sleeve. 

"Aye, Landon. If he gots none of Uther's blood in 'im then he has no right. If he does, then he's born bastard, and can't rule anyway. None o' the bloody nobles 'ould follow if he weren't some prissy castle living brat. 'Sides, that he's Uther's is naught more than rumor anyway. If he ain't got the blood, then he can't. Not my choice."

"Then we'll storm Camelot!" Landon roared drunkenly, gyring his hands around him. 

"Get yer arse in yer chair, and sit down, man. It'd take a miracle of God to get Arthur to the throne." 

"Ah, but there has been such a miracle," an elderly woman at the bar scratched. Her voice was soft, but strangely amplified within the wooden walls. The slurred speech of the men grew silent and the hoarse shouts died down as Malin and Landon turned their attention to the black robed silhouette, framed by the fire. She kept her face turned down to her mug of wine.

Malin stood and watched her carefully. "An' who're you, old mother?" Setsuna chuckled, the sound harsh with her disguised voice. She placed her mug down on the countertop, turning on her stool, still keeping her hood down, letting only the white clumps of hair to dangle. 

"Britain holds to the last rays of wisdom. Light from the holy isle. There is a Sword of ancient times, lost to the memory of men. Forged by the lightning. It sits in the rocks above Londinium, waiting for its master. Only the future King may pull it from its sheath. The Sword in the Stone," she held up a finger in warning, and lifted her head, allowing them to fully see her strange red eyes. A ripple of breath fluttered through the room's silence. "Placed there by magic's hand. For who so pulleth out that Sword from that Stone shall be rightwise king, borne of all England," with those words she lifted her hands up before her, casting a tiny glamourie. Any who knew of magic things and spells would know her trick. She was there, but not there, the others in the room forced to avert their eyes from her, look around her. To them, she had disappeared from sight, seemingly by a simple wave of hand. 

Setsuna hurried carefully to the doorway, avoiding inadvertent contact with any of the men. She succeeded, and as she slipped into the rain, she heard the men beginning to murmur amongst themselves. Imagined? No, impossible. A Sword in the Stone? Above Londinium? Forged by lightning? Tonight? In the rain? There was lightning. But why now? What Goddess, God or gods sent such a gift? Setsuna allowed herself a tiny smile of satisfaction at their confusion. One tavern of men would spread word, but she needed all of the army to be speaking of the strange Sword above the city. Slowly, she worked her way into several other taverns across Londinium, repeating her performance with similar dramatics and results. Rumors rippled that a woman with the eyes of no mortal spoke of such a Sword. A Sword in a Stone.

It was the man called Merlin to Arthur and his Companions who at last organized the search for the rumored Sword. It was found easily enough, high on a sloping hill of rock. The generals who traveled with Arthur for Uther's sake demanded that they too have a turn at the blade. Merlin intervened, advising a wait. Runners and messengers were summoned and sent out to gather men and spread word. The gods had sent a miracle to England, to settle any dispute over the next king. And so they waited, as men came from all over Britain. From Sulis and Anderida, Calleva, Deva, Avon, Dubris, Eburacum, Glevum, Dummonia, Lothian, Cornwall, Caerleon and Venta Belgarum. They amassed at Londinium's gates, camping with their escorts and entourages, hastily establishing their tents. Londinium became a circus of men, strutting to show off for those who would be king. Word of such things spread quickly, for it was considered a miracle. Spectators from the countryside came in to watch the parades of nobility in fine clothes and gallant armor. Merlin took a personal hand in keeping the Sword safe when found. Some of the more foolish had tried to bring axes and hammers and awls to pick or break the Sword free of the Stone. He put several trusted knights around it, of different lands, to show no favoritism to Arthur, who he served, or any other lord. 

It was morning when they marched up the hill to the Sword. The first men had walked away defeated, to pitying applause from the crowds at their failure. Some men took longer than others, calculating with their eyes the angle and tilt of the Sword, thinking that they could pull it out by the right angle. They, too, failed. Knights and nobles tugged and pulled, and even peasants were given chance by Merlin to stand and touch the hilt of the blade. An enraged Lot of Lothian kicked at the rock when he was given his turn, failing as the others before him. He stormed off rudely, black hair storming around him. 

It was dusk when Arthur took his place at the Stone. The sun was setting on the western horizon, staining the sky red and purple. The Moon, cloakedby the stars, was emerging in the heaven, its silky silver light glistening down on the heads of the tired watchers. Rosy fingers of sunlight still reached up, and it was under this light that Arthur placed his hand on the hilt of the Moon Sword. The light of the Sun and Moon intensified as he did so, and a vapor of mist rose from the stone as he pulled it from its sheath, humming softly. He held the Sword aloft, and the combined brightness of the dying Sun and reborn Moon wrapped around him, a thin circlet of gold settling on his brows, and a blood colored scabbard formed at his side. 

Merlin was the first to bow to his knee, saying, "Long live Arthur, King of Britons." 

Many still remained in shock, the nobles who had failed. Gawain and Beauhands, sons of Lothian and Companions of Arthur, dropped to their knees and repeated what Merlin had said, only louder. "Long live Arthur! King of Britons!" The peasants knelt, and at last the nobles. "Long live Arthur! King of Britons!" this was their pledge of fealty and the only coronation that Arthur would need. Later, men would say that he was ordained by the hands of the immortals, by God and heaven. And so the men and women on Londinium's slopes called out in accord the name of their new King. "Long live Arthur! King of Britons!"

Swif. Scratch. 

Scribble, scritch scritch. Swif. Scribble scribble. 

Dab dab. Blot. 

Swif scratch. 

Scribble. 

Merlin did not hesitate in his writing when he heard the cloth flap of his tent stir in opening and closing. He dipped the quill into the inkwell and daubed it on a bit of cloth, then continued to press the quill to scroll, black ink marking evenly with stylistic calligraphy. Bent at his desk, a tiny table, with a candle burned low, he wrote, a stream of words pouring from pen. Occasionally, a drop would fall out of place, a blob on the parchment. The candle spluttered at the breeze that entered with the figure. Merlin continued to write, but spoke to who was there. "I write it all down, Lake Lady. Every word of it. Every action. Mayhap someday it will be of some use to someone." 

"Annals of history are useful in any era, Merlin," Setsuna drew closer, the shadows cast by the candle dancing in the hollows of her face. At last he set the pen down in the inkwell, and leaned back in the chair, regarding the woman who stood before him. 

"You have grown much, Lake Lady. But not so much as you should have." Setsuna smiled then, and folded her hands into a temple before her. "Ah, secrets, Lake Lady. Cannot tell an aging man the secrets of eternal youth?" Setsuna chuckled a moment, then sobered. _It is true. He is aging. He is the Merlin now that is pictured in storybooks. Long white beard. Sharp, intelligent, yet still kindly eyes. The druid robes on his thin frame...yes. This is the Merlin of legend. _At Setsuna's silent stare, Merlin leaned back and sighed. "I suppose not. Disruption to the cycle of life. They say already that I am the one who placed the Sword in the Stone. Arthur calls it Excalibur."

"That is its name, here."

"Here?"

"Yes. Here. Someday, I must return it to where it came. For another to use, for another to protect."

"Another king?"

"Queen." 

"Ah. So England will someday be ruled by a Queen." 

Setsuna laughed lightly. "Yes, England will be ruled by a Queen, but not the one who will use the Sword. England will have many Queens, and great ones. Women will be allowed to rule in Britain, someday." 

Merlin lifted his eyebrows. "Truly? I imagine the nobles will not take kindly to that."

"Perhaps not at first. But they'll learn. That is not for some time, Merlin."

"Arthur first called me that on a lesson. A merlin alighted onto my hand, and since then, that is the only name he calls me. You called me that long before, if my memory serves me right."

Dryly, Setsuna responded, "Your memory always serves you right, if I remember correctly from my own lessons."

Merlin chuckled. "Sit, Lake Lady."

Setsuna waved off the offer. "I cannot stay. I cannot interfere."

"Interfere? Dear Lake Lady, you brought that Sword for Arthur to use. You ensured his existence. Interfere? It is far too late for that."

"I ensured only what must happen. From here, I must stand aside." Merlin stood and went to a table beside his cot. He poured spiced cider into a mug and offered one to Setsuna. Reluctantly, she accepted it. "Thank you." 

"Ever polite. I know better now than to press you on your reasons, Lake Lady. But why must Arthur return the Sword? To where? And if killed in battle, how?"

Setsuna shrugged as she sipped her cool cider. It tasted of cinnamon and nutmeg. She wrinkled her nose slightly, but enjoyed it all the same. "If necessary, I will retrieve Excalibur myself. But see to it that Arthur knows the Sword must be returned."

"I will. For the...future?"

"Yes. The far future."

"You are still out of contact with Morgan."

Setsuna winced. "Yes."

"She has married. Urien, of Rheged."

"He's twice her age!"

"Still. She is married."

"Has she any children?" _Still no word of any Mordred. And Arthur is crowned. Nineteen. Barely more than a boy, a stripling with the fancy title of dux bellorum. Now he is King, as should be. He still has growing to do. Ages. Mordred...._

"You sound worried of any of Morgan's children."

"I worry for her welfare."

"Of course," Merlin's words were noncommittal, agreeing but skeptical at once. "She succeeded in her curse on Uther. She still blames you, but hates herself for it."

"Morgan has yet to understand why I did what I did that night. Telling you to send Uther to Igraine."

"As I am yet to see it. But I believe I know why. Arthur. King of Britons. There is a goodness in him, Lady of the Lake. This will be a glorious reign. I am surprised that Morgan has not Seen it with the Sight."

"She has rarely had full control over her vision. She sometimes sees only what she wishes."

"True. She's impatient. Demands answers immediately. If Arthur is the King I think, I know he will be, then I see why." Setsuna finished her drink, and set it on the table. "Arthur already worries about a queen," Merlin continued, watching Setsuna's reaction carefully. Her face was void of emotion. 

"He will choose the queen he wishes. The one he has chosen, and the one he will. The one he must. Watch carefully, Merlin. The queen is a most dangerous player in the future." 

"He has had his eye on the daughter of Leodegrance, king of Cameliard. Guinevere. The alliance would be advantageous."

"Yes. Guinevere."

"You will stay for their ceremony, then?"

"I must not interfere." 

"Then watch. Observe. Stay for awhile, Setsuna. As my guest. If you say no word, what harm may be done?"

_Merlin was right. What harm can be done if I am here only for a short time? No word spoken of the future, no damage, no foreknowledge. _Setsuna sat in her room in Camelot pinning up her hair before a polished silver mirror. 

Camelot was unlike any other place Setsuna had seen, in any vision or image of the future, or the past. Camelot was to England what the Silver Millennium was to the Moon. What Elysion was to the Earth. The walls outside glistened when she had first arrived, white and shining. Buttresses arched skyward, and the high walls were dotted with observant archers. There were slits in the walls for archers as well, for a fight. A heavy portcullis was over the bridge, and the wide moat steamed around Camelot in a shroud. She had seen Camelot before, many times through hazy distance from Mona as a girl. But now she had crossed the moat on Kore's back, Merlin before her, and Arthur and Gawain, Beauhands, Kay, Bedwyr, and a new knight from Brittany named Lancelot. It was Lancelot that Arthur had sent to fetch his bride from her home, to collect her dower, a massive Round Table that took twenty oxen to haul the distance. Lancelot had become fast friends with Arthur, both equally matched in skill of sword and lance. Camelot had been in uproar since the King had announced his betrothal. Negotiations had gone relatively smoothly. Setsuna had hovered in the shadows, watching the proceedings. _For awhile I am safe here. But I am hardly infallible. A word may slip. I may have need of the Timestaff, and someone may notice me henshin. Until after the wedding. Then I leave. Perhaps back to Tintagel. I haven't been there in so long.... I do want to see Guinevere. Is she as lovely as the legends rumor her to be? Arthur has grown into a fine man. He looks like Igraine. That is well for him. Keeps people guessing as to his parentage. I wonder if he himself knows. He must, surely. But nobility of character and mind is not in the blood, but in the soul. Igraine. He does look like her. Same amber eyes, same auburn hair, slightly wavy. He has Uther's shoulders, I think, but then from what I have heard of Gorlois, he too was not a small man, so that means little. Today Arthur weds Guinevere. And so his reign begins. The legends born from these people! Generations of tellings and retellings! Such power their tales have. The tales, the stories, that is what matters. A pity for the Silver Millennium. It will be so long before the legends of those days are rediscovered. For now...._

__She tucked her hair up into a single odango on top of her head. Several strands fell loosely around her shoulders. She dabbled her fingers in the water of the bowl at her side and curled the hair around them, releasing them after a moment so they would spiral slightly. With all the activity at Camelot, preparation for the wedding, jewelry and cloth had been simple enough to find. She was delighted to find a heart shaped hair pin, with a sparkling ruby in it. It had reminded her of the Garnet Orb, so she had managed to get it, as well as some other jewelry. A heavy ruby necklace with black pearls graced her neck, and a bracelet of silver set with obsidian flecks on her wrist. She had been overjoyed to find the cloth she did, haunting the tailor shops. Most colors for spring were bright, sprightly colors, inspired by the wedding. Setsuna had wanted to go counter, wildly counter. _I must wear blue robes every day. I want to do something different. I like dark, so that is well. But medieval clothes...a period piece, yes, but not like anyone else's! Everyone will wear their best, to impress the King. As will I, but I will not look like everyone else!_

__The material she selected was of a dark garnet red, so deep it was nearly black. She bought the whole bolt of fabric, as well as some prettily colored small beads, which shimmered in shades of purple and green. 

She had stitched for hours, sewing it together, and was pleased with the result. It was deceptively simple. Sleeveless and with a scoop neck. Straps twined behind her neck. The bodice was tight, almost Victorian in style, and she had sewn the beads halfway up from the bottom of the bodice, then gathered tiny scraps of material and formed tiny flowers from them. The skirt had been where she had run into indecision, wanting the full eighteenth century French style that belled out, but such a extensive dress would be a bit more attention grabbing than even she wanted. She had trimmed it, still keeping a slight bell shape, but letting it fall relatively straight. It was the back, or lack thereof, that would catch most eyes, since it left her shoulders and most of her back bare, exposing her shoulder blades. That was highly irregular for the usual Arthurian dress, that and lack of sleeves. Trailing sleeves were high rage at the moment, as were Y shaped belts. She had forgone the Silver Millennium's fondness for fluffiness in bows, opting for the sleeker style. 

Now she sat at her dresser, in the mirror, pinning up her hair into a soft bun. She had decided to forgo her usual odango, leaving most down, and put it all up in true Victorian style. _Wouldn't it be funny if they thought it immoral? One of England's most straight laced and downright prudish eras considered obscene? It is just hair, but still funny to consider. The bodice is Victorian inspired as well, so we'll see. Who was that famous designer in the future? Chanel? Yes, Coco Chanel, eat your heart out!_

Setsuna stood before the long mirror. Mirrors in those days were still not so clear, but well enough. She spun from side to side, observing her handiwork. _The fashion house of Setsuna, Lady of the Lake. I'll be famous hundreds of years before anyone hears of haute coture. Setsuna, listen to yourself. You sound like an eleven year old again. Well, I might as well enjoy my dress in private. Why not? I wonder what Guinevere will wear. For that matter, Morgan. Morgan is here. Her brother is marrying today, and she is here with her husband Urien. Why Urien? What benefit does he bring her? Could she love him? Doubtful. Morgan never struck me as the marrying type, especially to someone so much older. I wonder what politicking happened there. Merlin may know. Morgawse is here as well, with the eternally unhappy Lot. At least Arthur has given him, as a kinsman, certain rights. Lot deserves none of them, but it will placate him for now. Mark is not here, thank the Wheel. One less to worry about. The knights of the Table are assembling. Merlin is my escort for the evening, technically, although he tells me he doubts that I will remain with him long. I wonder if any knight would dance with me, a child of the Dananns as far as they are concerned. Garnet eyes and now bizarre dress. Maybe I should have been a bit more tame. Or not...._

__Just as she began to turn from the mirror, she was surprised to see a small red gleam on her forehead. _The Pluto Symbol! It has not shown itself for years! For the occasion, then? Well, then tonight, it appears I will be answering questions related to 'what is that?' instead of 'why don't you wear the mark of the Goddess?' The tailed P. Thank you for appearing._

The ceremony was to be performed in Camelot's gardens, in the center of the great castle. Guinevere had arrived several days prior, secreting herself with her maids in the castle. Few had seen her. Setsuna among them. The sun was dazzling that day, high overhead and yellow. Camelot's gardens were in full bloom, flowers of every kind bursting riotously in their beds. Ivy clung to the walls of the garden, draping between the entrances and exits. An altar was in the center, where the priest stood. Oak trees shaded the spot, stretching high above. People were mingling as they stood. Merlin smiled at Setsuna as he released her arm. A lord named Bors came and he and the Merlin spoke together, Setsuna following the conversation only distantly. 

The crowd began to shift, and Setsuna and Merlin, with Bors, ambled to one side, taking their places. Merlin patted Setsuna's hand once, then went up to stand with Arthur, who was now at the altar. There was little sound as the ceremony began, but birds in the trees sung softly. Arthur wore full finery, his standard of the Pendragon emblazoned onto the red background of his clothing, hemmed in cloth of gold. Excalibur rested comfortably at his hip, the hilt polished to gleaming, as was the shining silver mail he wore. A cloak of midnight purple hung from his back, and the sun lit his amber hair in a wave of copper colored strands. 

He turned, as they all did, to see Guinevere approach through a curtain of ivy. That Guinevere was beautiful would do no justice to her. Bards would sing of her, compare her to Helen of Troy. Her golden hair was parted down her head, fastened in twined braids behind her ears, long loose tails falling in a waterfall down her back, trailing to the ground, waving only slightly. Pearls had been sewn through it, and moonstones. Milky white skin with small red lips, and enormous blue eyes that dominated her face, framed by exquisite black lashes. She wore white, a gown of gauzy precious silk, flowing around her like a white river. A belt of yellow gold wrapped her waist, trailing down. The neckline was low, decorated with pearls wrapped in spirals around her chestline. Long sleeves were opened lowly, trimmed in gold. She carried a bouquet of red roses, twined together in golden strands of thread. Roses had been placed behind the knots of braiding behind her ears. She wore only one piece of jewelry, a heavy Celtic suncross as a necklace, with a diamond in its center. 

_She makes a statement with this. She is Christian. A pagan ceremony, though with Christian elements to it. This will worry those on Mona. But...she is as lovely as they say. She does, somehow, look familiar...._

Guinevere stepped forward, brushing over rose petals that young girls had strewn before her. Maidens held branches over her, of many kinds of trees. Two women flanked her, her handmaids. One was very tall, with fresh green eyes and sunstreaked brown hair, bound up in a single tail at the nape of her neck, full and thick. A dress the color of emeralds hung from her shoulders. The other was not so tall, her hair the same golden color of Guinevere, but let down and not so long. Blue eyes and a small, proud smile graced her face as she swept along beside her queen in a dress the color of burnished bronze. Guinevere extended a hand gracefully to Arthur, who took it, beaming at her, bringing her to his side. Somberly, Guinevere took her place beside him. 

The rites were completed, and a banquet laid out for a reception. The Great Hall of Camelot could rival anything the Silver Millennium had produced, and what amazed Setsuna was that they did it with far less technology, less resources, and no Imperium Crystal. Setsuna only left Merlin after being introduced to Guinevere. Arthur she had met, but he seemed completely enraptured by his new queen. Guinevere had smiled kindly at Setsuna, warily taking her hand. Guinevere seemed afraid of her new surroundings, but eager to speak to people. Guinevere had instantly asked Setsuna about her dress, and she had happily responded that she had made it herself. "It is lovely," Guinevere had said. "The color is beautiful on you. It so brings out your eyes. You must show me how you made those tiny flowers on it. They are so lovely, lady Setsuna." 

"Thank you, your majesty," Setsuna had thanked her. She had been politely swept away by one of Guinevere's handmaidens, the taller one. There were many who wished to meet the new queen and the High King, and so Setsuna set herself aside. 

_But sadly, nothing in the world lasts forever. Not even this. Not the Silver Millennium. Someday, many, many millennia in the future, even Sol, our lightbringer, will nova, and nothing but a black star will remain when it is through the throes of its death. It will take such time. I wonder at this. Birth and death. Time devouring everything, for it is the one thing that must exist, or nothing else will. But for now, let me enjoy this reception. I have seen Morgan. She stands with Urien. She saw me, but said nothing. I fear to approach her. Arthur is king, yes, but she may not understand, not yet. Perhaps, farther into the future, there may be some reconciliation. But until she herself may come to see me, let it be. I have seen others from Mona here. Gliten and Thitis! Still hanging on each other after so many years?_

Gliten turned her head first to see Setsuna approaching. Her face lit, and she practically pulled Thitis around. Thitis promptly broke into a huge grin, and nearly broke Setsuna in half in a hug. "You haven't changed a bit!" Thitis shouted, nearly lifting her off her feet. 

"Glad to see your not so shy anymore, Thitis," Setsuna gasped from the crushing embrace. 

"Oh, Thitis just didn't like people, that's all," Gliten beamed. "Still doesn't." Thitis rolled her eyes and released Setsuna. "I love your dress, Setsuna! It's so...ah, different. But it's wonderful on you!" 

Dryly, Setsuna said, "Thanks. But I hardly think my dress compares to Thitis' hair."

"What, is this talk about Thitis day?" Thitis folded her arms. "I am standing right here." 

"Sorry," Gliten hugged her quickly. "She cut it a few years ago. We've been traveling on the continent, only came back a few weeks before Badon. She refused to keep it long. You had such lovely hair, Thitis! I still think you should-"

"I am not growing it out! It's long enough," she brushed a strawberry blonde strand behind an ear. The hair was straight, coming a inch below her chin. Both Thitis and Gliten were dressed in long gowns, Gliten in sky blue velvet, Thitis in lavender saffron. Gliten had bound her hair up, several curly blueblack spirals spinning down her neck. 

"Excuse me," a male voice asked from behind them. The three women turned to see a smiling Bedwyr standing behind them. Teasingly, his eyes twinkled. "But, as the king as ordered the harpers to play, that means people must dance, and I would like to extend an invitation to the lovely lady with the shorn hair," he reached out with his hand, bowing from the waist. Setsuna and Gliten stared, while Thitis flushed scarlet. She tried to sidle closer to Gliten, who suddenly found the ceiling very interesting, and pushed her forward. "Come, lovely lady of the skies, I would like to dance," Thitis, tall for a woman, was dwarfed by Bedwyr, and ended up getting dragged onto the floor, throwing helpless glances back at Gliten and Setsuna. 

"Sorry about Bedwyr," another man said, coming up beside them. "He's a bit hasty. We were supposed to come and ask both of you at once." Now it was Gliten's turn to flush, even darker when the man introduced himself, kissing her hand delicately. "I am Kay, son of Ector. I would love to dance with you, lady Gliten," Gliten allowed herself to be escorted to the floor. Setsuna smiled and shook her head, stepping away from the gathering couples on the floor, who began a twirling dance, exchanging partners as they circled the floor. 

"Ah, Setsuna," an unwelcome voice drawled. Setsuna forced herself not to wince as she recognized the tone. 

_They get to dance, and I get.... _"Morgawse. Its been so long."__

__"Oh, Setsuna, it has. My, what an...interesting...ensemble you've made." Morgawse deliberately smoothed her own wine colored dress out, trailing her fingers over the golden brocade on the bodice. 

"Yours is equally lovely, Morgawse," Setsuna responded smoothly. Morgawse cleared her throat uncomfortably and straightened her her yellow hair. 

"Yes, well. Good to see your friends are out with men for once. Ban-draoi, from Mona, I presume? Judging by the crescents on their head. What is that on yours, Setsuna?"

"It is my symbol," Setsuna said simply, not embellishing. 

"Yours? I thought druidesses wore the crescent. Well, I suppose that isn't nearly so bad as what Guinevere wears! A cross! Christians. Did Arthur know of it? I heard she was raised by one of those priests of theirs. People come in with all kinds of bizarre-"

"Morgawse," Setsuna interrupted her tirade. "How are your children?" _Better to hear of Gawain and Beauhands than her rants about religion._

"Hmph. Them? Gawain and Gareth have all but abandoned Lot and Lothian. Ungrateful. Lot and I raise them, care for them, give them everything, asking them to only promote the welfare of Lothian, and they go running off to protect Arthur." Morgawse suddenly realized where she was, and stuttered, "Not...not that there's anything wrong with that! They're heroes, my sons. But leaving Lothian...lets a mother to worry. Both have renounced Lothian in favor of joining some Round Table idea of Arthur's," grudgingly, Morgawse admitted, "equal men on equal terms? The King only the first among the circle? I must admit, that sounds very...just. Well, I suppose the rule of Lothian goes to the next in line."

_Next? Next! Who is after Gawain and Beauhands? How many children do you have? Do you speak of relatives? _"Morgawse, who would the next in line be? I'm afraid I've been away for some time."

"Why, my baby, Mordred. You haven't met Mordred, have you, Setsuna?" She began to look around her. "He's here somewhere. Ah. There," she waved at him, and after a moment, he looked up, then stood and weaved his way through the sea of people. 

_Mordred. Mordred. Mordred is the son of Morgawse. Not Morgan. Not Morgan! He is already born, and looks to be five, no, six years old. Sweet Lady, it is not Morgan! He's so...small. Short brown hair, clipped short. His eyes...they're so...cold._

"Setsuna, this is Mordred. Mordred, this is your Aunt Morgan's old friend Setsuna." 

Mordred watched carefully from below her, tilting his head up to see her face. "Lady Setsuna,"he greeted politely, then stood closer to his mother. 

"Mordred will inherit Lothian with his brothers gone. The Seers foresaw a great deal of importance in his future. He will be a great man, known by all history!" Morgawse beamed in motherly pride. "Greater than any king to rule England. Wait until-"

"Oh!" Setsuna exclaimed as an arm suddenly wrapped around her waist. 

"Excuse me, lady Lothian. The lady promised me a dance awhile ago, and I was called away before I could receive it. I hope you don't mind," Setsuna was suddenly whisked away in the arms of the knight, leaving Morgawse staring after her, spluttering. "You looked like a fair damsel in need of rescue," the knight said as he spun her around. "Forgive me for taking so long. The hall is wide and I was with Arthur on the pavilion." 

"Thank you," Setsuna stuttered. "Have we met?"

He chuckled and plucked a rose from his shirt, which had been stitched there. "Lancelot. Of Brittany. For you, milady," he offered it to her, and Setsuna placed it in her hair. "I've met Morgawse. What was she ranting about this time?"

Setsuna rolled her eyes. "It's Morgawse."

"Ah! Everything, then, I see," their laughter mingled as he spun her another turn around the floor. 

He grew quieter as they danced, and Setsuna watched him. _He smells sweet, like roses. Handsome. Black hair, just to chin length. Oceanic blue eyes. Narrow face...I cannot help but think I've seen him though. Familiar, yet not. Odd. Well, he's light on his feet. And this is Lancelot. Has the love between him and Guinevere begun yet? If he only knew what awaited him._

__"You look sad, lady. Perhaps if I could have your name?"

"I'm sorry. Lady Setsuna Meioh."

"Tintagel? Arthur spoke of you. You lived there when he was a baby." 

"Yes." _He's so handsome...Setsuna! Control yourself! This is Sir Lancelot! Don't be ridiculous! _"I left to Mona when he was very small. I'm surprised he remembers me." _That smile...no wonder Guinevere will love him so...I was told I may interfere...Lancelot. So much would be happier if Lancelot and Guinevere never loved each other. Mordred is born, yes, but without the leverage of discovering them together, regardless of whether they were betraying the King or not...Lancelot. It would be easy to love him, perhaps. I could do it. Spirit him away. I am here to protect Arthur, am I not? That is what I have been doing. Won't the betrayal of his loyalist friend and his wife harm him?_

"I've never been to Tintagel," he stated, and they drew into a tighter knot of dancers, pressing them closer. Setsuna breathed more heavily, constricted by the tightness of the bodice. The spinning and tightness, closeness to the handsome Lancelot made her utterly breathless. They twirled again, spinning from the knot, and Setsuna found herself reluctant to release him. The song ended, the strings fading into silence. "My lady," he bowed, then kissed her hand. "Now that you have been safely rescued from the wicked dragon, I must return to Arthur. Forgive me my lady." 

"Forgiven." 

He turned and left her there. She took the flower from her hair. The red rose he had given her. The petals spread open before her. _That face. I know him...what does it matter? Lancelot. I could win him, couldn't I? From Guinevere? Beauty cannot be everything. Unusual I may be...he didn't seem to mind. Still...there is something.... _She turned the rose in her fingers, and a tiny hidden thorn pricked her finger. A face blurred in her vision. _Sight? What is this? No..._. Her head snapped to the pavilion where Guinevere stood, now accompanied by Lancelot to her left side, Arthur on her right. 

_They look familiar...no. I must allow this to proceed in order. I...Lancelot...we are reborn, not once, but many times. What if...no! I will not think it! But if it were to be true, that their love is far older than merely this lifetime, I must stay out. The same eyes, on both of them. Windows to the soul, it is said. When did that idiom come into existence? But...if they are...did Queen Serenity send them directly to the future? Or only to Earth, to reborn at the same time? Over and over again until the time is right for their awakening? This is another legend. I cannot take the risk. He is not for me to have._


	5. Doorways, Which Never Reveal Secrets

# Mists of Time

## Doorways, That Never Reveal Secrets

She left Camelot and its holdings two days later, riding Kore south, giving the ebony mare her head, allowing her to run at her own pace. The scenery of Britain blurred and melded together as she flew down the hills and roads of the land. Trees, tall and dark, with animals of the forest running between them. Farmland, grassland, shepherds and their flocks, tending to their duties. She had taken very little with her on this ride, some foodstuffs, bread, cheese. Her dress, of course. She let Kore decide their direction, and Setsuna watched the land roll by from the horse's back. Slowly, she came to recognize their surroundings. _Tintagel. It has been long since I have been here. I have interfered much in this lifetime. Arthur needs no more help from me. At least not for now. I will not think on the end of this story. Not now. Now I will think of a home, a place to watch and wait for the end. Somewhere warm, private and silent. Peaceful. I have traveled much over these many years. Igraine would welcome me back...but I do not wish to live in the castle. Perhaps I may find a cottage, empty. A garden. A stable for Kore. I will have to retrieve my books from Gaius. I will let Arthur take his legend from here. Ah...look! I remember this place. Beautiful as ever. The lake._

Setsuna drew Kore up on the beached side of the lake, pausing for a moment to cast a glance over it. It was glassy, the tiny waves smooth but shiny in the noonday light. Mists still hovered on the opposite shore, wrapping strangely around ghost trees, sliding through the solid ones. A cool breeze drifted off the water. Placidly, a family of swans paddled their way across. Setsuna's eyes fell on a small boat, a raft, actually, floating in the reeds not far from her. It was not tied, yet it did not drift away. She angled Kore closer to investigate. It was of dark wood, barely large enough to carry a single person in its hold. On the tiny prow, the sigil of a deep crimson tailed P had been carved. 

_The Pluto symbol? Here? Like this? Why?_

The raft bobbed in the water, the P nodding itself up and down as Setsuna debated on the appearance of the boat.

_An age of magic this is. Someone must be trying to contact me. Father? Checking up? But why now? And why a boat? Well...I suppose only one way to find out...._

__Setsuna swung from the saddle, dropping to the ground. She patted Kore's neck, and mumbled, "Be good, and stay here. I'll be back soon," the horse looked at her with liquid brown eyes, blinked once, then snorted, turning to graze on some nearby grass stems. Setsuna smiled and shook her head, clucking her tounge softly at her mount. She pushed a lock of hair back over her shoulder, and stepped into the boat, hitching up the blue robe's hem to keep it from getting wet. The moment she was fully in the raft, it dislodged itself from the bank, and began to float steadily across the lake. She remained standing, without anywhere in the boat to sit. The ride was unusually smooth, even on the calm lake. She folded her hands before her in a temple, holding her chin high, even though she was still uncertain what was happening. Vapor from the other side of the lake began to grasp outward, tugging further on the boat, drawing it closer. As the boat continued at a straight line, she began to understand the destination. 

_Through the mists. The other side of the lake. But not the usual side. The other place, the place there, but not there. I have wondered where it led to. Let me now see. Pull back the veil of time and space, and let the Guardian pass through._

The mists obeyed her thought, releasing their grip on the raft. She continued to float forward, the cloudy fog clearing away from her. She saw she was now in a stream, a narrow one, winding forward. The raft came to the shore, drawing up to the rocks. Setsuna stepped out, and took the two strides up the embankment. The raft waited for her. 

Threads of sunlight wove their way through the cloak of the leaves above her. Patches of light, spotted by the shadows of the leaves fell on the floor at a slant. Many trees of many kinds stood taller and thicker than she had ever before seen. Alder, beech, ash, oak. Flowers grew from corners in the roots, which broke through the loam they rested in. Blue and pink and purple, dashes of yellow and orange, printed on a lush carpet of green. There was no time of day here. Light fell from all angles, and no coloring of the light, yellow or red in the sky, could indicate the hour. Setsuna turned her head up, to see only the thick canopy of branches above her. The mists were softer here, barely visible, a haze softening the images of the forest. The air shimmered with unearthly sound, tinsel chimes shivering with the music. A tiny footpath wound its way forward, and so she followed it, stepping silently along the narrow strip, avoiding a ring of mushrooms in the path. 

Setsuna found herself in a grove of oaks. As the trees she hand passed before were large, these were still greater, a ring, with one that was so massive Setsuna needed to crane her neck back to see the branches twine themselves with those of the other trees. There was stillness here, and the feeling of held breath.

She turned in the clearing, skirts flowering out around her as she watched the trees above her. They rustled against each other, speaking in the language of the forest, whispering about the stranger in their grove. The feeling was not an unwelcome one, but one of curiosity. Of patience. 

A bird fluttered past her, a sparrow, darting. It chirruped once at her, then flew back into the trees. Setsuna followed it, leaving the quiet grove of oaks to whisper about the stranger who had come and gone. The forest opened onto a hill, covered in blossoms. She wandered deeper inside the trunks, coming among them. Apple trees stretched upward here, and a white flower released its grip on a branch, swirling out to greet her, landing on her shoulder. The trees bore fruit of all colors, green, golden and deep red. 

"You like my grove?" 

Setsuna's back stiffened as she understood she was not alone in this peaceful place. She turned her head around to see the woman who had spoken to her. The figure stood under the draping branches of an apple tree, obscuring her from full view. Setsuna, though, knew the voice. "Mother."

Rhea stepped out from her tree, gently placing the moved bracken back to their places. The tree sighed as she moved away, several blossoms dancing after the goddess Titan. Her skin was the same white of the petals that balleted after her, and green hair like the leaves of the trees she had passed, tied low at the base of her neck, trailing down to the Earth. A dress of fiery red brocade flowed into the ground. Twin sets of garnet eyes met each other. Rhea smiled, even white teeth showing fully as she absorbed the image of her daughter, standing before her. "You have grown to be lovely, Setsuna."

"Thank you, Mother." 

Rhea shook her head and stepped closer to her daughter, taking her hand in her own, leading her. "You like my Isle of Apples? The mortals outside...they call it Avalon."

"I have heard of it."

Rhea chuckled, then her eyes saddened. "You've grown so. I am sorry for leaving you at the palace so long. It is duty, for me as well as you."

Setsuna looked away. The joy she remembered of her father's return now mingled with the adult's sense of bitterness of abandonment. She said nothing. 

"I will not beg forgiveness, Setsuna. This is my home, between the times. Forgive me for waiting until you were grown before bringing you here. I have been watching. Your Father wanted to keep the Knights if the Outer Planets after you, at a distance. After you went to Mona, I was able to convince him otherwise."

"I'd never seen them before."

"Few have. They rarely come from their hiding places now. They are for...times of desperation."

"And this is a time of desperation?" 

"No...this is a time to protect the Guardian."

Setsuna had no reply to this, and allowed her mother to continue leading her around the apple trees. Rhea released Setsuna's arm, then reached for a glossy red apple. It shimmered a moment, then broke in half at Rhea's command. The core resembled the shape of a star in the way it broke. Rhea handed half to her. "Isle of Apples. I have made it my home now. Pushed it between the times, to protect it. So much has been lost, Setsuna," Rhea bit into the apple. Crisp, it crunched as she chewed. Setsuna couldn't help herself. Lifting her fingers to her lips, she giggled once, watching her mother's cheeks distended from the food, crunching on a snack. Rhea turned her ruby eyes on Setsuna, swallowed, then laughed along with her. "You have done well, Setsuna." Rhea told her as they finished their small outburst. "Protecting Arthur. Have you learned the lesson yet?"

Setsuna turned the apple core around in her hand, watching her half of the star turn on its points. "Ah, I see. You do not wish to leave yet. Do you think that Arthur will not live without you to protect him?"

"No. But...Mother, this is my home. Or...it has become my home. Arthur...he has Guinevere. Merlin. They will...."

"You know how things will work out with Guinevere," Rhea closed her eyes and sighed. "A loyal woman, kind and trusting. But her love...meant for another. It is hard to fight destiny." 

"Mother...Guinevere...and Lancelot. They look...."

"Looks are irrelevant now, Setsuna. Incarnations of people in the past without their memories. They are not, yet they are. Different faces, different voices, different memories. Yet...the same mind. What is a mind, but a house for the soul? Some say the heart. An important part, surely, but...." Rhea smiled as she stepped around a broken branch, whisking her skirt from a snarl. "I leap ahead of myself. Someday, a heart may be replaced with another, to save a life. You have read of this process, in study, have you not? At the palace?" Setsuna nodded once, yes, she had, and Rhea continued, "When the patient awakens, they are the same person. But if the mind is altered, what then? Are they the same? If the brain, the house of the mind, is damaged beyond any reasonable repair, what then? The face matters little, Setsuna. The body, the gender, the eyes. It matters not. It is the soul. Do you understand this?"

"I believe so. No matter how many times we incarnate, the soul is the only part that matters, not the face or body that carries it."

"You have grown so, Setsuna. Are you certain you do not wish to tell me the lesson now?"

"Do I know it?"

"I believe so."

"Then I am sure. I wish to stay. But...is it wise? Can I stay? If I know the lesson...."

Rhea laughed, bells on the wind. "Then do not tell me! If you speak of it, it is done, and you return to the Door. Say nothing. I won't tell your father, don't worry."

Setsuna regarded her mother a moment. "Then I won't." 

"Good. Now, a parting gift," Rhea held her hand out, palm upward. The seeds that were left of the apple glistened, then began to branch out, curling. They became harder, metal, changing in their alchemy. It became the metal of the Timestaff, a version in miniature, without the Garnet Orb, the same kind Father had not provided for her. Only the Timestaff she had kept in this place. The key rose from Rhea's hand, and hovered before Setsuna. "Take it, my daughter. Keep it with your Garnet Scepter. Use it when it is needed. And it will be. More time has passed in the outer world. There is one that waits for you. Farewell, Setsuna," with this, Rhea lifted her hand, and Setsuna could only open her mouth to protest before she found herself standing again beside the raft that had brought her there.

Before she stepped into the boat, she sent the tiny key to the place the Timestaff was held in wait for her. The raft started forward as she straightened herself at the prow. The curtain of mist drew apart as she passed through, remerging on the lake, drifting steadily forward, approaching the opposite shore. A figure stood there, a woman, carrying a heavy knapsack over her shoulder, garbed in the black robes of a druid acolyte. Somber blue eyes watched Setsuna approach. Long white hair fell in waves past her waist, each crest transparent with the shades of aqua or indigo. The raft bumped against the reeds, and Setsuna stepped out, both women watching each other warily. 

"Who are you?" Setsuna asked the stranger.

The woman's lips quirked in a corner, and she said, "Once, many years ago, I told you I liked quiet, but wanted to see Britain before it changed too much," the woman shrugged. "Now I am. I've been looking for you, Setsuna."

Amazed, Setsuna managed, "Viviane?" 

Viviane dropped the bag she carried, and smiled weakly. "Am I welcome?"

"Viviane!" Setsuna embraced the younger woman. "It's been so long! Of course you're welcome!" as Setsuna held Viviane, she slowly became aware that Viviane was trembling. It was when her shoulders suddenly heaved that Setsuna released her, still holding her shoulders. "Viviane? What is it? What happened?" Viviane gasped and fell to her knees, Setsuna joining her on the ground. 

_This isn't right. She's wearing the robes of a novice still. At this age, and point, she should be a ban-draoi, fully pledged to the Goddess. She shouldn't have been allowed to leave Mona while in training. There is no crescent on her forehead._

__Tears splashed to the ground, and Viviane placed her hands over her face. "I failed, Setsuna. I was supposed to take the trials. I did, but I failed. I looked into the water, and all I saw was myself. I didn't See anything," Viviane managed miserably. "Mother thought it best if I left Mona awhile. Fended for myself. Came back when I was ready. But...Setsuna, no one who fails comes back. No one gains the mark of the Goddess away from Mona. I'm too weak. My powers aren't strong enough...."

Setsuna grabbed Viviane's arms and shook her. Viviane continued to let tears stream down her face. Setsuna slapped her sharply. At the sound of her hand contacting the flesh of Viviane's cheek, she gasped and stared at the garnet eyed woman across from her. She raised a hand to her cheek. "Stop pitying yourself. Viviane! Listen to me. You have more strength than you could possibly understand. How did you find me?"

"I scryed."

"You scryed. You found me, didn't you?"

Softly, "Yes. But only because the water likes me."

"The water likes you," Setsuna repeated flatly. Viviane did not explain herself. Setsuna stood, brushing dirt off her skirt and went to stand in the sand on the beach. She began to make a mound of the sand, heaping it high. "You say the water likes you. Is the water weak, Viviane?"

"It's soft."

"Soft, yes, but look," Setsuna plunged her hands into the water of the lake, and allowed drops to fall between her fingers. She tightened her grip, and more splashed out, falling onto the sand hill she had made. As each drop hit, the sand melted under it, and some began to fall off the hill, returning to the beach. Setsuna ran out of water in the cup of her hands, and she looked to see Viviane, staring wide eyed and open mouthed at her. A hand slowly came to her lips, and a light began to kindle in her eyes. 

"Like a beach head."

"Yes. The water wears away the stone. The drop cliffs around Tintagel. They were forged by water, not fire or men with chisels or magic spells."

"The water...wears away the stone."

"And in time, it changes the shape of lands. It balances fire, as air does earth." 

Viviane placed her hands on the ground before her. "I'm sorry," she managed at last. Setsuna sat beside her on the ground, and together they watched the lake, then the sun dip behind the horizon. "Maybe I should go."

"Go? Where?"

"You still want me here?" 

"You're always welcome, Viviane."

"Thank you," more moments passed, and a chill breeze ruffled their hair. "Where is your house?"

"My house?" Setsuna suddenly realized that she had offered Viviane hospitality, but without a place to give it. "Ah...I don't have one," she admitted, feeling a little foolish. "I just got here."

"Oh," Viviane kept her gaze on the water, her brow knit as she thought. "What's that spot on the lake? In the middle? The water flows around it wrong." 

"In the center?"

"Yes," Viviane turned her head to Setsuna, and tucked her knees up under her chin, the way she had as a child. She rested her cheek on them. "It's...a cave. Isn't it?"

_And you thought you had no power, Viviane. If you only knew. _"Yes."

"Then why don't we go there?"

That was what they did. 

The crystal cave was empty, uninhabited. They moved in. Setsuna became fond of the hidden place. Few eyes were as sharp as Viviane's, spotting the place that appeared to be a placid spot of water. A place that did not blow with the other waves. Viviane accepted the hologram as a spell of glamour, and the force field that kept the water out as something similar. The cave was wide, but had no rooms. After some talking that night, the two women made final their plans to convert the cave into their home, each wishing somewhere private, quiet and out of the way. Over time, they bought material for screens, and they portioned off the cave. 

A room for Setsuna. A room for Viviane. They gathered feathers left by swans and ducks and geese that visited their lake, which were plenty in the season. They stuffed mattresses. Two druidesses on their own in a forest were not women without resources. They went into the woods, finding the supplies they needed for trade with the villages outside Tintagel. They hurried, for during the time Setsuna had spoken to her mother on the Isle of Apples, months had passed in the outer world, and autumn was approaching. 

By winter, they had traded medicines garnered from the roots of trees and the brush of plants for food and supplies. They mixed paint, and clumsily painted the screens in their cave into patterns of flying swans, of the moon and stars. Of owls and trees and apples hanging on them. Viviane had once laughed, green paint on her nose, that she wished she could draw better. Setsuna had told her that she had know a princess Michiru once, who had painted breathtaking pictures. Viviane had asked where she was from, and Setsuna was not sure if Viviane believed her, or even understood, when she said, "Neptune." 

Rumor spread in that time, of the two who lived in the lake. Men and women whispered that they haunted the lake, saying they were not women at all, but water spirits that dwelled there, come to see the world of men. 

That summer, Setsuna left Viviane for a few weeks to go back to her old cottage north of Badon. She had meant to collect her books, all of them, but on reaching the village, she found Gaius had set himself and a new apprentice to copying them. "Too much great literature! It must be copied!" he had protested, and Setsuna had relented, taking only the first copies he had transcribed in calligraphy. She promised to be back the following summer, for more. Gaius had happily assured her he would have more done then, and would be happy to return the books. So she had left with only three books rather than her collection. 

Kore had taken to wandering between Avalon's shores and the shores of the outer world. Setsuna and Viviane had attempted to build a stable for her, on the shore, but she refused to go in. _It is as well. She cannot come into the cave with us. The submerged bridge is wide enough for both Viviane and I to walk side by side, but it is still under the water, and slick. What good would holding Kore in a stable outside be to her if she needed us? _So they let her wander, and Kore developed a sense for knowing when her mistress or Viviane needed her. 

Setsuna had not known how much Viviane had loved to read at Mona, since most of Viviane's time with Setsuna and her group had been studying. She read and re-read each book Setsuna brought back until it was dog-eared, despite her nearly obsessive compulsion to protect the tomes. She memorized passages from the works. Viviane had spent precious money on soft lambskin, meaning to write down and organize their supply of herbs. 

During the summers, they went to the outlying cottages and bartered their medical skill for food or other supplies. Setsuna had come up from the crystal cave, preparing for such a trip, to see Viviane, sitting on the bank, holding a sheaf of foxglove in one hand, in the other a book, one leg trailing in the water from where she sat tangled in the roots of a weeping willow. As Setsuna approached, she saw Viviane's lips moving steadily, as she recited along with the passage she read,

_"With domineering hand she moves the turning wheel,_

_Like currents in a treacherous bay swept to and fro:_

_Her ruthless will has just deposed once fearful kings_

_While trustless still, from low she lifts a conquered head;_

_No cries of misery she hears, no tears she heeds,_

_But steely hearted laughs at groans her deeds have wrung._

_Such is the game she plays, and so she tests her strength;_

_Of mighty power she makes parade when one short hour_

_Sees happiness from utter desolation grow."_

"Boethius?" Setsuna asked as she stepped onto the shore, shaking water off her feet. 

"The Consolation of Philosophy. Yes. It's strange. I have heard Christians speak, and they say that women are somehow to blame for the Fall they believe in." Viviane shrugged delicately, snapping the book shut and looking at the finely drawn picture on the front, of a woman holding a scepter in one hand, and wearing a dress with the pattern of a ladder on the front, different Greek characters inscripted on each rung. "This book, written by a Christian, yet it seems some ancient goddess who brings him this knowledge. A philosopher...one of the Hellenic goddesses, then? Pallas Athena? Minerva? Or maybe one of the Egyptians, Isis, or some such. Amazing, how knowledge is assimilated through different channels?"

Setsuna regarded Viviane. _She's grown more confident of herself since arriving here. I'm glad. I should take her to see Gaius with me next time I go. Hmm...later this month, perhaps? I wonder how she would debate with him. Still trying to get me to be a nun, after how many years now. _"One faith takes up the beliefs of the old, even as they make them their own. I'm heading to Milica's farm, to take her the arthritis medicine. I'm sure Eamon would love to see you," Viviane blushed instantly as Setsuna had expected. She couldn't help it. She smiled, faintly. "I'll be going," and with that, Setsuna whistled. Kore pounded out of the woods, tossing her head. 

"You're good to bring it to me, milady. Can't get 'bout as I used to, and Eamon's busy 'ith the fields." Milica turned her wizened head towards the lands surrounding her little cottage. She spotted her grandson at the plow, the oxen churning up the land as they pushed their way forward. Milica squinted her wrinkly eyes and yawned hugely. "'S good o' you 't bring it out. Hands hurt 's much nowadays. That's good medicine you mix there, milady."

"Actually, Viviane made the new blend. She's better at medicine than I."

"Truly? Feels wonderful," Milica rubbed her hands together. "You sure you won't stay for supper, then?" 

Setsuna blanched, but kept a straight face. She had made the mistake of accepting dinner with Milica the first time. She wasn't going to do that again. _I wonder how Eamon eats it. Well, food making abilities don't reflect on kindness, I suppose. _"No, Milica, I really need to get back home before it's late."

"'Course, course. Come next week with the salve, you will?"

"Yes. I'll see you then."

"Bring that pretty 'Vian w' you. Eamon likes 't see her." 

"Next week, Milica." 

"Be careful, milady!" Milica called to her as Setsuna swung up onto Kore, who waved back, then took off. They picked a leisurely pace back to the lake, and the sun was only beginning to crawl beyond the hills when she arrived back. Setsuna looked for Viviane where she had been last, curled up in the arms of the tree. All she found was the stem of foxglove and the book, discarded on a gnarl of tree. She swung from Kore's back and went over, looking around. 

"Viviane?" she picked up the book, which had been placed face-down, open to the page she had read from when Setsuna had left. Bewildered, Setsuna closed it, then began to worry. "Viviane?" she called again, standing. "Viviane!" the water before her burbled as air reached the surface, popping as the bubbles burst. It swirled around. _Viviane? Viviane! _She dropped the book and took a step towards the water, only to be forced back as a wall of water rose up to meet her, throwing her back against the tree. 

In the center of the sudden explosion of froth, Viviane rose, white hair flying, wearing a robe of midnight blue. An equally blue crescent now graced the place between her brows, framed by eyes the same color. The water swirled around her, lifting, then falling to the lake in a glitter of white foam. Viviane stood on the lake, not on the rock path that led to shore, but truly standing on it. She seemed to slowly come to realize she was being watched, and turned to the garnet eyes that stared. "Setsuna?" 

"Viviane?"

Viviane laughed, throwing her head back and her arms wide. "I understand! I finally, finally, understand!"

They heard, on occasion, word of Arthur and his court. Camelot was described as a mystical place, beyond all mortal comprehension. The raids on England slowed, then stopped altogether. Saxons and Angles, Jutes and Picts feared the new King, who had somehow, miraculously, unified the island. Guinevere, as Setsuna had known, and expected, was called the greatest beauty since Helen of Troy. Lancelot became her champion, her protector, and any victory he claimed was for her. Word came that Gawain had set off in a quest, challenged by a knight who wore green armor, and thusly was dubbed the 'Green Knight.' "Very original," Viviane had commented dryly after hearing that particular story from a bard. The following year, they heard he had succeeded in his quest, keeping himself from being decapitated by the Green Knight. Some said that it was Morgan, called le Fey, who had sent the Green Knight, in an attempt to scare Guinevere to death, but Setsuna refused to believe that.

"If Morgan had wanted to kill Guinevere, she would do something more successful and reliable than scaring her." 

Battles were fought, battles won. They watched, from the lake, time passing. Viviane slowly began to notice Setsuna's apparent agelessness, but said nothing. She herself had barely changed in the years that she had lived at the lake, little change occurring in her body. They heard of Igraine's death. Setsuna mourned, and they watched the funeral from afar. Age was fended off from the lake, and Setsuna wondered at times if it was from the proximity to Avalon's timeless shores. Viviane had never mentioned the strangeness of the side of the lake, the mist that hovered there all day, all night, and the strange trees that the mists mingled with. She knew Viviane saw it, yet remained silent. 

All of Setsuna's old books were on a shelf in the crystal cave now, the rickety shelves bowing under the weight of the paper and vellum. Gaius had passed away the year before, and his successor had finished the copying work. They were surprised, once, when Gliten and Thitis had come to Tintagel, and Viviane had spotted them in the marketplace. The pair had happily stayed with Setsuna and Viviane for a week. Thitis had chopped her hair even shorter, and now wore men's clothes almost regularly. "Easier for travel," she shrugged when questioned. They liked the idea of living under the lake. Neither mentioned the strangeness of the mist, and Setsuna had no reason to believe they had even noticed. 

They brought word that Guinevere was having a succession of unsuccessful pregnancies, and that the lords were beginning to despair of a heir. Even an heiress, at this point, Gliten told them, would be better than no child at all. She had then gone on to wait until Thitis was done ranting about how women should be able to rule as men. The pair had left laden with food and fresh supplies. Gliten had painted a pretty scene of the four of them on one of the screens in the cave, in exchange for the supplies. Viviane had given Setsuna an odd look after that, and had stared at Gliten very hard, but ended up shaking her head and returning to her book. 

After Gliten and Thitis had left, they resumed their daily routine. It was at a summer fair that they first heard of a new quest, initiated by a young knight named Galahad, to search for a relic called the Holy Grail. It was said that it possessed great powers. The Christians claimed it was the cup their Lord drank of at the Last Supper. The pagans claimed it was far older than any god, and was for none to claim. Seasons later, men returned from the quest, never finding the mythical Grail. Some claimed that no man may touch it. Others that it was a fool's dream. Galahad, of all the knights, did not return, and the search was forgotten as the despair over Guinevere's barrenness grew.

It was quiet on the lake in the hours of the evening. The Moon had just risen, and the sky was still tinged in the west with the colors of purple and red. Swans moved silently through the water, fishing. Frogs croaked from their pads. Setsuna had a feeling of unease for the last few days, as had Viviane. They had grown so accustomed to the presence of the other at that point that they did not need to tell the other of the feeling. They took turns, searching for portents, omens, signs of what was coming. The night deepened, and moonlight trickled in through the portal that was the entrance to the crystal cave. Viviane slept, tired from searching the water for some indication of the source. Setsuna sat at the base of steps, holding the silvery scrying bowl before her. The Moon reflected in the water, and she held it perfectly still, daring not to breathe on the surface. _It must be still. Completely still. Not a breath of air. Disturb the water, and lose the vision. Show me. Show me what is the source of the feeling. I can sense it. Viviane can sense it. It hangs in the air. Show me. Please show me. _The waters misted as she watched, and Setsuna focused her vision on the bowl. In the reflection, hemmed by the vapor, she saw the face of a man, with short brown hair and cold eyes. They could have been sad. She watched the man lead others into a room of a castle. Beyond her ears, she heard the sounds of protest by women. He pushed past them, with the men at his back. 

The room he entered was finely decorated, and in its center, stood Lancelot and Guinevere. _The man, then, is Mordred. This, then, is the beginning of the end.... _The scene in the bowl blurred and reformed. The image of Guinevere and Lancelot together, on what was surely Lancelot's stallion, charging away across the land, Guinevere's golden hair streaming out behind her head as they flew away from Camelot. Arthur replaced their image after a moment. There was a kind of distance in his eyes, a numbness to the events that had just taken place before him. Men lay dead on the ground where Lancelot had struck, breaking his way through to Guinevere. Among them was Beauhands, Arthur's nephew, Gareth. Such a death of a kinsman was inexcusable. The queen was gone, taken by Lancelot, her beloved. There was no heir to the throne of Britain. Lot would thunder about revenge for his son, though they had been estranged for years. Men moved now, not to Arthur's side, but raising armies against him, seeing that he was weakened without Lancelot, without Guinevere. His hard fought and hard won kingdom began to crumble as the greedy petty kings resurfaced, siding against the King, allying to each other to defeat him, rather than support him. War was being raised on Britain's shores again. Still, over all this tumult that followed, Setsuna could only see the emotionless face of Arthur, who turned from where he stood, walked past Merlin, who waited behind him silently. 

The mists clouded the bowl, and a frightening sight greeted Setsuna's garnet eyes. Spears polished to gleaming marched in file across a plain, standards on flags flying high overhead. Once, they were allied to Arthur. Now they faced the Pendragon symbol, gold on a scarlet background. The armies were silent before her in the water, and the enemy, led under the flag of Lothian, charged. Mordred was in the forefront, hacking his way through the men before him. 

Blood splattered to the ground as men found themselves cut, bleeding, dying. Some side had raised a steady battle chant as the opposing armies clashed into each other on the hill. Setsuna recognized the place. She had been through there once. It was not far from Cornwall, and was known in the rural areas for a new bridge that had been built there, on the river Camel. It was called Camlann. 

The battle was a slaughter. From the images portrayed before her, Setsuna saw it began, as most battles did, in the morning. She watched the men steal armor off the dead when their own was destroyed by a mace or axe. Arrows sung in the air, and some archers wandered through the mess, pulling arrows from their victims, still covered in gore, to be shot again. One was little more than a boy, and Setsuna watched sweat fall into his eyes as he released another arrow into the fray. Night was falling now in the images, the sun setting. Again she saw Arthur, and now Mordred. _No. I cannot watch this. This is the end. No! I will not watch it! _As she stood, she saw a glimpse of Mordred's spear silently arch towards Arthur, and then the bowl was flung across the room, water splashing across the cleanly swept floor, clanging against the wall. 

Viviane gasped as she jolted upright in her bed, as the bowl rang against the crystal wall. She clasped the blanket to her, then threw it aside, bare feet striking the ground as she came to Setsuna, who sat on the steps, face in hands. "It is done, Viviane," she told the other woman, who sat beside her.

"At Camlann."

"Yes. At Camlann," Setsuna removed the hands from her face. "You Saw?"

"I dreamed it. Yes, I Saw." 

"It is time," Setsuna stood. Viviane stepped back watching her as she breathed deeply, and lifted her hands to the Moon, which shone through the portal to their home. "Pluto Planet Power! Make-up!"Viviane did not appear frightened as Setsuna completed her henshin, her clothes altering, a staff appearing in her hand. "Viviane?"

"It's all right, Setsuna."

"Sailor Pluto."

"Yes. Sailor Pluto."

Sailor Pluto held her hand out, a key in her palm. "Take this. Use it. Summon our sisters," Viviane looked at the key in her hand, the curling scrollwork, the silvery weight. It glowed faintly in the sheen of the moonlight that came through their doorway. Then she turned to Sailor Pluto, who stood before her and she clasped the key to her, close. Sailor Pluto nodded once, then lifted the Timestaff before her. "To Arthur. To the battle of Camlann."

She emerged onto Camlann's plain, the mists accompanying her. Sparse trees groaned out of the bloody Earth at places, their arthritic fingers scratching at the scarlet sky. Men still battled in knots, tangles that had not yet been cut down. Crows had begun to caw above the field, filling the air with hoarse cries as they awaited the end, and the feast that would begin with the sunset. A putrid stench arose from the rotting corpses. Flies, not so leery of man, as the crows, had already begun to swarm where the piles of men were thickest. She stood, and looked out over this carnage. 

Of the palsied trees, a single one stood tall, but its once broad leaves had been ripped apart through arrowshot and spear. It was an oak, scarred now, deep gashes in its trunk where swords had sliced it. Bits of sap mingled with stains of blood on its bark. It was there that Pluto found the form she sought, the body of the King of Britons. She had reached Mordred first, a heavy blade cutting across his chest, a death blow. His face, the stare of death, was not a look of pain, nor a look of rage and hate, but strangely, one of relief. It mingled with touches of sadness at his closed eyes, but his brow still carried the mark of determination. _Rest easy, Destroyer. I only hope your next incarnation is easier than this. You knew, even as a child, didn't you? That sadness. That coldness in your face when I first saw you. You knew then, didn't you, of what you were born for. Sleep, Mordred. Sleep. Forgive me for not having been able to help you._

Pluto left the side of the man named Mordred, and came, at last, to the side of Arthur. She knelt at his side and touched his neck. A rattling, shallow breath rasped out from his lungs. The puncture wound of the spear was in his chest, penetrating his lungs. Black blood stained the front of his armor. He still clasped Excalibur in his hand, fingers tightly bent around the hilt. His eyes flickered, glazed, at her. _You, too, sleep, Arthur, King of Britons. You have never seen me as this. You would not remember me as a child. Not my face, if you do my presence. We met on your wedding day. Spoke, though briefly. Guinevere told me she liked my dress. Would you remember such a foolish thing as that? Could you? Sleep, Arthur. Sleep. I will protect you now, not from afar, but close. Live, Arthur. Please, make the legends true. Sleep, do not die. Viviane even now gathers the sisters, who shall take you to Avalon. _As if her thoughts comforted him, he let his eyelids close.

She was seen, there, under the broad leafed oak, by one of the small groups of men who fought still. It did not matter, any longer, who she was, woman, soldier, warrior, friend. None left Camlann alive now. They broke into a run as they saw her, ran with weapons drawn. _They will not do this. I will not LET them do this._

A new phrase came to her mind, then. It was not a phrase meant to be shouted. It was not a battle cry. It was a command, born of the aftermath of battle, where men lay dying after the clamor of murder's grist mill. It came from the silence following, the wails of the dying, the dead. It came from the quiet, invincible strength of will it takes to sit, to wait. Then, in the silence, to pick your way among the rotting carcasses, searching for husband, brother, father. That is the strength of wife, sister, mother. It was from there the words came. Long ago, on Mona, she had learned of the banshee, and the wail she loosed before death. Down at the creek nearby, an old hag, who was there, but not there, washed bloody clothes in the crimson water. These were the places that the words were born, to be said with their terrifying strength and power. The words flew softly from her lips as she twirled the Timestaff between her fingers, and the sound was of wind on water. 

_"Dead Scream." _

Viviane led seven women after her. Morgan. Gliten, Thitis. Mazoe. Glitonea, Cliton, Tyronoe. She had gathered them with the magic of the key, from the different locations they had been in. The eight appeared from the mists on Camlann's field, Viviane holding the key in her hand. A cloud had settled over the oak, shrouding them from the vision of the men on the plain. They walked in two, even lines, four by four, following Viviane and Morgan, who led their way. The fog that shielded Arthur lifted as they drew close, and Sailor Pluto stood before them. No words needed to be passed between the sisters as they stood there. They knelt at the sides of Arthur, and lifted him between them, holding the body gently between them. Excalibur fell from his blood crusted fingers. Morgan picked it up, holding it reverently. She gave Pluto an even look, soft, even compassionate, but without the feeling of pity. Viviane, holding the key, then Morgan, holding Excalibur, with the six others, turned their faces to Pluto, who held the Timestaff above her. "To the lake," she whispered, and the cloud descended on them again, lifting only when they stood on the shore. 

A barge awaited them, shaped as a black swan. They placed Arthur gently in it, kneeling around him, holding him. He made no sound, but slept, his breathing the only sign of life. Pluto boarded last, and the swan set off across the lake on its own, no one to pole forward on its journey. The veil of mist parted for them as they drew close to the shores of Avalon. None of the women spoke, but watched, wide eyed, at the forest they passed through. Time here, had not passed since Setsuna had left her mother several years before. The sun still shone in an unseen place, giving no clue as to it being morning or evening. The barge placed itself against the riverbank, and again Arthur was lifted. 

It was a strange procession that Pluto led. She walked with the King of Britain on the shoulders of six sisters behind her, followed by Arthur's sword, and a key that would unlock the doors of time. It was in the grove of oaks, that whispered to each other, that she bid them silently set him. Arthur's head was placed at the base of the tree, laid out on the grass. Morgan stepped forward to place Excalibur on his chest. Pluto placed an arm out to stop her. The trees above them rustled, branches calling to each other, questioning.

They decided. 

They parted. 

A shaft of light from above the canopy glanced through, sparkling in diamond brightness. The light shattered, falling onto Arthur's still body. They danced out around him, alighting on his body. The roots of the oak above the King withdrew from him, circling, lifting him upward as the teardrops of light began to solidify, growing around him, encasing him in a barrier of shimmering crystal. Facets of the crystal still glowed with their own light as the oaks seemed to sigh that this was right. 

The nine sisters found themselves, in the power of the moment, flickering with aural light, the clothes they had happened to be in when Viviane arrived, changed into gowns that would be called queenly. The blue moon crescents on their heads glowed in that eerie light, as Setsuna's tailed P glowed redly. "Excalibur," Morgan said, looking at the encased body. It was a question as much as a statement. She held the Sword in hand tentatively, as though afraid it would shatter in the hand of one who was not Arthur. Setsuna said nothing to Morgan, but turned, and they followed her away from the grove, back, not to the swan barge, but to the shore of the lake where they stood. "Setsuna," Morgan began softly. "I understand now," was all she needed to say. Setsuna gave her a pained smile, but a reassuring one. Morgan stepped away.

It was Mazoe, who finally broke the silence. She pushed a lock of wavy brown hair back from her face, and stood unblinking with her hazel eyes. "And so, Arthur is placed in Avalon by nine sisters, to heal from his injuries in battle. And he will come again, when Britain most needs him. But what of the nine queens who stand on Avalon's shores? Do they remain with the King?" her question was to Setsuna, who stood staring with her Timestaff in hand. 

Softly, she replied, "No."

"Then what?" demanded Thitis. "Go back? Go back to Britain, without Arthur? Who will lead us? I've seen the Angles. The Saxons, the Picts. I don't know the future, but I don't want any of them getting ahold of Mona. I'm going to fight."

Gliten grabbed her arm, as though Thitis would be facing an onslaught of barbarian hordes alone. "I'm coming with you," she declared. 

"Just the two of you, against all the forces that will come?" Tyronoe shook her head solemnly. "Two cannot do much."

"We can try!" Thitis argued. 

Morgan stepped in. "Arguing will not help this. Together we are strong. Let us use our powers together. Drive back the enemies before they reach Mona. Before they reach Camelot!"

"No," interjected Viviane. Heads swiveled to her. Reasonably, sadly, she told them, "Mona is an Isle of peace. We cannot use our power, even combined, to kill. It would destroy what Mona stood for. Knowledge, learning, and the Goddess."

"Even the Goddess has her Destroyer aspect," Thitis retorted.

"And what is the great Destroyer, Thitis?" Setsuna asked, speaking for the first time. "What is it that devours all things? What is the one thing that swallows all others?"

The women looked between themselves. Morgan and Viviane reached the conclusion before the others. "Time," they said in unison. 

Setsuna inclined her head. "We cannot stop what must be. But we can protect Mona. And Camelot," she did not wait until one of them asked how. She continued, "Morgan. Place the Moon Sword there. Stand in a circle. Viviane, place the key with the Sword."

Morgan stared at her out of her wide violet eyes. "The Moon Sword?"

"A Sword forged of Silver Imperium Crystal, to protect the Princess. But that is another tale."

"A Sword...." Morgan breathed. She closed her eyes, and the lids fluttered rapidly. A look of pain crossed her face, and she moaned softly. Viviane, beside her, did the same, touching her forehead, and the crescent that awaited there. But the symbol of the Moon was gone, replaced by a circle, a tiny cross beneath it, and atop the circle, a pair of tiny antennae reached up, glowing light blue. On the forehead of Morgan, a circle with an arrow, slanted, shone faintly red. Gliten and Thitis stared, and then both gasped, as their own crescents changed shape. A crowned circle. A trident. "I..." Morgan stammered. "I don't understand. What..." she touched her forehead. "Setsuna? What is wrong with my symbol?" 

Viviane managed to say first, "Mars. That is Mars. But...I have never seen the symbols on Gliten and Thitis. What is on mine?"

"Mercury," Setsuna told her gently. "And on Thitis, Uranus, and Gliten, Neptune. Planets, like Earth, that have not been yet rediscovered by the people of Earth. You are...incarnations...of people of the past. Of a different turn on the Wheel. Now is not the time for your reawakening, so your memories have not been returned to you."

"And us?" Glitonea asked.

"I don't know who you are. Or were. Or will be. You may play a part in the future, when the time is right for the Princess to be revealed."

Morgan drew herself up. "I feel so strong. Setsuna. If we cannot destroy the invaders, then let us place a barrier to stop them. A wall."

Viviane shook her head. "A wall? A wall of what? Nothing lasts forever. No material on Earth lasts forever. A barrier, yes. A barrier that can exist forever."

"Then it would have to be..." Gliten started, then stared at Setsuna. 

"Time itself," she responded. The six others on the shore looked at her. "Push Mona, push Camelot, into the mists of time. Place them beyond the reach of man. For Arthur, when he is healed by the crystal. Such power comes from us, ourselves. It may take all the energy that each of us carries. I cannot ask you to do this unless it is truly your own will," each woman cast her glance at the others. 

"I'm not doing anything for the rest of my life," Thitis managed wryly. Faint smiles pulled at the women. 

"If Thitis is willing, so am I," Gliten stepped forward, linking hands with Thitis. "I want to save Mona." 

Mazoe nodded, stepping forward. "I knew Guinevere as a girl. We were good friends at the castle, before I went to Mona. She has Lancelot now. I want to save my love, my husband. He lives at Camelot," she took Gliten's hand. "I want to save him, even if I can never see him again," she was defiant. Tyronoe took Mazoe's hand in hers, silent as usual, but with the same determined look on her face. Glitonea nervously clasped Tyronoe's hand. 

"Mona is my home. I still live there. I want to keep my sacred grove. I grew the rosemary there myself. My friends are there. I want to protect them, too." 

Cliton breathed deeply and said, "I lived at Camelot for a time. There is such power there. If it is destroyed, what then? If England herself cannot be spared, let at least Mona and Camelot await the return of the once and future King of Britons," Cliton took up Glitonea's hand.

Morgan and Viviane looked at Setsuna. Viviane remained quiet, but Morgan spoke. "I said I would hate you for what you did, Setsuna. Forgive me. I stand with Mona, and magic. Save some small part of the magic in the world. Gift it to the future." She placed the Moon Sword, Excalibur, down on the beach. Viviane set the key beside it, then took Morgan's hand, and Setsuna's in her own, the Timestaff twined between their fingers. 

"Pray," Setsuna told them simply. "Send your energy to Avalon. Change its borders to include Camelot and Mona. Avalon exists everywhere. Seal all that Arthur achieved away from harm. Gift it to the future."

Heads bowed in the circle, lowering. A ribbon of energy flickered around them, shivering. Mists from Avalon swirled around their ankles, reaching for the Sword in their center. The key and the Sword were uplifted by the mists. The Sword began to turn, end over end, shining as they prayed softly, humming tonelessly. Each mind was filled with the images of friends, family, loved ones. The Garnet Orb glowed as the Moon Sword's rapid turning became a silvery circle in their midst. Lightning crackled around them. 

If a man had stood on the opposite bank of Mona, or on the hills that surrounded Camelot, he would have seen a mysterious sight. The water around the island began to let loose clouds of steam. Quietly, columns of mist rose from the water, surrounding the isle of druids and the castle of Arthur. They spun, and enfolded the two places within their arms.

Glitonea fell softly to the beach. Tyronoe followed her, and Cliton, moments later, with a sigh. Mazoe held tightly to Gliten's hand, but she, too, fell to the sand. Gliten and Thitis fell together, crumpling softly with a breath of air, hands still clasped. The Singing Sword stopped its maniac turn, point up. It then fell. The key that had accompanied it was gone, dissolved into the mist that had wrapped around it. Morgan fell with a feeble cry, collapsing, no breath left. Viviane knelt beside her, cushioning her head. 

"Viviane?"

"I have to stay, Setsuna. There is a mission for me to complete," she rested Morgan's head on the ground, setting it there gently. She stood. "You must return the Sword to wherever it came from. The Moon, I suppose. I have something I must await. I will miss you, Setsuna," Viviane turned and walked to the water, stepping into the lapping waves. 

"Viviane?" Setsuna called after her. She turned, looking over her shoulder. "Merlin was wrong, Viviane. Arthur's Guardian I may be, but it is you who are the Lady of the Lake." Viviane only blinked once, and gave Setsuna a sad smile. Then she returned her gaze to the water, and descended into the lake. Into the water, not their home, the waves covering her head as she submerged, her foamy white hair mingling with the surface a moment, then disappearing as well. 

"Until we meet again, Princess Mercury," Setsuna tore her eyes from the lake, then looked at the crumpled forms around her. She knelt beside Morgan, brushed a lock of ebony hair from her face. _Haruka. Michiru. Rei. Rei, in this life, you were my best friend. And Ami...you were...my sister. Someday, I will see you again. And even then, I will not be able to tell you of this. Of any of this. Memories of the past, of the present, of the future. I only hope our Princess has found some happiness in the rest of this life with her Knight and protector. Please, let that much happen. Different lives, different people. Same souls. Over and over again until the time of awakening is at hand. Sleep, all of you. Sleep, and await your next lives. I will miss you all._ Setsuna took a breath, expelled it, closed her eyes and centered herself. She took the Moon Sword into one hand, the Timestaff in the other. 

"Pluto Planet Power. Make-up," again, she wore the uniform of the Guardian of Time.

_To the Moon...._

And for the second time since the fall of the Silver Millennium, Sailor Pluto reached the Moon. 

It was still, as it had been when she had left it so many years ago. The blackness of the sky remained thick, and the air, silent. Time passed empty here, unlike Avalon, with its lush trees and flowers. This place was barren now, empty halls crumbling and crystal spires falling from ancient attack. Her heels clicked against the marble as she returned to the prayer room. This time, Queen Serenity did not appear before her, a tiny, holographic version of what she had once been. _It is as well. What would she say, to one who has taken her daughter's protective Sword? Sent Mona and Camelot into legend? She knew I would do this. Mother or Father told her, surely. They know far more than I. I cannot replace the Moon Sword into its sheath of crystal spire. It is chipped, broken. But if Arthur pulled the Sword from the Stone, then let her Guardians do the same! _Sailor Pluto swung the Sword around her head, and struck it into the ground at her feet, the marble melting in a pool around the blade. She released it as it lodged deeply. Energy crackled around the hilt, and the blade hummed once more in its new home. The crystalline blade petrified into the stone around it, fixing itself there firmly. _And so it is done. Arthur sleeps in a case of crystal, regenerating. The nine queens who took him to his home on Avalon are gone, on to await their next lives. Excalibur is again the Sword of the Moon. Which means this turn of the Wheel is complete. I must return to the halls of Time._

"Home," Sailor Pluto commanded, and she felt coolness brush on her skin as she returned to the long corridors of doorways. Mist rose high around her, and before her, her father stood, arms folded. 

"You took longer than I expected," he said gruffly, folding his arms. 

"I was unable to tell Mother the lesson."

His eyebrows lifted. "Unable? Or unwilling?"

Setsuna said nothing. 

Chronos chuckled. 

_I never realized how empty Father's laugh is. How much he's seen. How many people he has seen die, be reborn. How many empires have rose to the sky then crumbled to the ashes as he watched. No wonder they say he devours all things. To the Greeks he is Chronos. But to the Romans, with their Latin names, he is called Saturn._

"Are you willing to tell me your lesson now, Setsuna?" 

"Yes," she looked him in the eyes, evenly. Garnet met deep ocean black. When she continued to say nothing, he impatiently demanded, 

"Well?"

To which she responded, "Time cannot reveal any secrets." 

# 

# 

# 

# Epilogue-

An old man who had once been called "Merlin" by those who had respected him, reached the bank of a lake. The locals said that it was haunted by the ghosts of nine queens, sisters, witches of the old gods, who dwelled there. Most stayed away in fear. Others, who sometimes looked to the mists that lay on the lake, left simple offerings of flower necklaces for the spirits. One left bread, once. She found the crumbs on the handkerchief it had been left in the next week, when she had returned. Actions such as that fed the whispers. Taliesin, as he was again called so many years later, hobbled on his painful feet to the river's edge. "Lady? Do you live here still? Or is it your ghost who the villagers speak of?"

Taliesin watched the water bubble before him. A geyser of water exploded out, and in it the form of a young woman, with white hair tinted in shades of aquamarine and indigo. She had eyes the color of lazuli, and they fixed on the aged form of Taliesin. 

"Viviane?" Taliesin breathed, recognizing his daughter from so long ago. His old eyes blinked as they drank her in. "You...."

"I am the Lady of the Lake." 

"I expected...."

"Setsuna has returned to the halls of Time, to her post as Guardian of the Door of the Fourth Dimension. I stand in her place, to await what you have brought me, Merlin," her hand was ethereal, pale. From his blue robe, he pulled a small, seemingly ordinary cup, the color of fire hardened clay. 

"Galahad returned. He was successful in his search. The Holy Grail," Merlin presented the relic to the Lady of the Lake, who came closer to him. She clasped his withered hands in her smooth ones, accepting the cup from him. She hesitated as she did this, holding him a moment. "It must be taken to Avalon. To await a new calling. It will come again. The Grail will be different that time, not so simple in appearance. Others will need it, our relic, as we needed theirs," she released his hand and floated back out into the lake. "Rest from your travels, Merlin. You will not be forgotten by history, by legend. You will come again, as Arthur will re-awaken. Rest, Merlin, and let legend run its course," she faded then, into mists that welled up behind her. 

As Merlin watched, the lake steamed with magic. Mist rose so thickly he could not see, fogged and blurred. When the mist cleared, there was only a flat, broad area before him, bare of any flora or fauna, save a single, budding oak tree, where the doorway to a crystal cave had once stood.


End file.
